SHER5URNE 


AMANDA  M.DOUGLAS 


d7 

Jo 

(T 


UNiV.  OF 


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Sherburne 
House 


AMANDA  M.  DOUGLAS 
Jff 


New  York 
Dodd,  Mead  and  Company 


Copyright,  1892,  by  DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY. 


TO  MY  YOUNG  COUSIN 
HELEN  DOUGLAS  BINGHAM 

"  But  would  we  learn  the  heart's  full  scope, 

Which  we  are  hourly  wronging  ; 
Our  lives  must  climb  from  hope  to  hope, 
And  realize  our  longing." 

A.  M.  D. 
NEWARK,  1892. 


2129191 


Contents 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  A  MIDSUMMER  PLAY i 

II.  THE  PHANTOM  OF  THE  PAST 15. 

III.  A  BATTLE  WITH  DESTINY 28 

IV.  How  DELL  FOUGHT  IT  OUT -43 

V.  MUST  THIS  BE  HOME? 54 

VI.  NOT  QUITE  A  BARBARIAN 71 

VII.  STANDING  UP  TO  THE  MARK 85 

VIII.  GILDED  PRISON  BARS 100 

IX.  BREAD  EATEN  IN  SECRET 116 

X.  THE  LONG,  LONG  THOUGHTS  OF  YOUTH  .    .    .    .135 

XI.  BRINGING  A  DREAM  TO  PASS 149 

XII.  IN  THE  OLD  HOME  ONCE  MORE 167 

XIII.  A  GRAVE  QUESTION      180 

XIV.  THE  MEASURE  OF  COURAGE 196 

XV.  IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW 211 

XVI.  GATHERING  TANGLED  THREADS 226 

XVII.  A  NEW  ATMOSPHERE .      241 

XVIII.  THE  HOUSE  BEAUTIFUL       258 


vi  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAGH 

XIX.  THE  TOUCH  THAT  MAKES  THE  WORLD  AKIN  .    .  273 

XX.  LOOKING  THROUGH  OTHER  EYES      289 

XXI.  THE  DUTY  NEAREST 303 

XXII.  PILGRIM  AT  THE  WICKET  GATE 315 

XXIII.  As  YE  FORGIVE 326 

XXIV.  A  RED  LETTER  DAY 338 


Sherburne  House. 

CHAPTER  I. 

A  MIDSUMMER    PLAY. 

THEY  were  having  a  circus  of  the  grandest  kind  in 
Murray's  Row.  At  least  that  was  what  the  boys  called 
it.  Dell  Murray  had  cried  a  little  and  gone  into  a  "  tem- 
per," insisting  it  should  be  a  matinee.  Probably  the  affair 
would  have  ended  in  a  row,  and  the  children  have  lost 
their  great  pleasure,  but  for  Tessy  Murray,  who  was 
always  a  kind  of  peace-maker  or  umpire,  and  had  such 
a  sweet,  persuasive  way. 

"  Let  them  have  animals  and  standing  on  their  heads 
and  wild  Indians,"  said  Tessy.  "That'll  be  the  circus 
part.  And  then  we  girls  will  have  a  reg'lar  \oveley  mat- 
\nay.  And  you  shall  do  Cinderella.  And  maybe 
mother'll  come  put  and  see  you." 

A  little  of  the  brogue  came  natural  to  Tessy,  though 
the  public  school,  that  great  machine  with  its  almost 
Procrustean  bed,  snipped  off  the  odds  and  ends  of  nation- 
alities. But  when  cunning  little  Tessy  wanted  to  be  par- 
ticularly coaxing,  she  had  a  soft,  lingering  way  of 
stretching  out  "  love/<?y." 

She  carried  the  day  for  both  sides.  She  coaxed  Con 
to  add  matinee  to  the  cards  and  begin  it  with  a  big  M  ; 
though  he  was  a  little  afraid  the  boys  would  laugh  at 
him. 

l 


2  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

A  week  before  Dell  had  gone  to  a  regular  matinee.  A 
neighbor,  for  whom  she  did  errands  and  swept  the  side- 
walk, had  taken  her  to  see  Cinderella.  Dell  knew  the 
story  by  heart,  but  such  a  godmother,  such  fairy  apparel, 
such  a  palace  and  prince,  made  amends  for  much  sitting 
in  the  ashes. 

"We'll  save  up  our  money,"  she  confided  privately  to 
Tessy,  "  and  go  our  own  very  selves.  It's  just  gorgeous  ! 
And  such  music!  And  oh,  such  dancing!  I  dream  of 
it  just  as  I  am  going  to  sleep,  and  it  floats  away  off." 

Perhaps  Dell  had  been  rather  demoralized  the  whole 
week  from  the  unwonted  indulgence,  and  the  plan  for  re- 
peating it  under  the  old  apple-tree.  Mrs.  Murray  had 
been  tried  enough  with  the  "colleens."  Any  other 
woman  would  liave  made  a  point  of  heroic  discipline. 
But  Densie  Murray  was  the  largest-hearted,  sweetest- 
tempered,  tenderest-natured  woman  in  all  New  York.  I 
am  not  sure  her  match  could  be  found  anywhere.  And 
then  Dell  was  not  her  own  child.  That  might  have  ex- 
cused her  for  being  a  little  sharped,  but  instead  it  made 
her  more  lenient.  She  could  always  see  just  how  Dell's 
mother  had  looked  up  at  her  with  dying  eyes,  full  of 
heaven's  own  trust;  and  being  a  good,  conscientious, 
rather  superstitious  woman,  she  felt  quite  sure  she  should 
confront  the  questioning  glance  of  the  eyes  in  that  other 
world,  and  she  wanted  to  be  able  to  meet  them  unshrink- 
ingly. 

However,  to-day  Dell  had  worked  like  a  Trojan.  The 
sweeping  and  scrubbing  had  been  done  with  a  vim,  well 
done,  too.  Oh,  if  you  had  seen  how  spick-and-span 
everything  was  !  The  children,  too,  had  been  scrubbed 
and  dressed  clean.  Indeed,  all  Murray's  Row  was  in  a 
state  of  wonderful  tidiness.  For  one  thing  there  had 
been  a  drenching  Shower  the  previous  evening,  and  the 
pure  air  and  sun  were  doing  their  best.  Murray's  Row 
was  very  respectable  indeed,  quite  different  from  the 


A    MIDSUMMER   PLAY.  3 

tenement  rows  of  to-day.  It  was  but  a  bit  above  Cen- 
tral Park,  and  had  even  then  begun  to  look  queer  among 
the  aristocratic  houses. 

Con  Murray  with  the  good  trade  of  a  bricklayer,  and 
a  new  wife,  had  emigrated  sixteen  years  before  this 
period.  With  his  little  money  he  had  bought  some 
rather  wild  land,  given  over  to  goats  and  squatters,  cows, 
pigs,  geese,  and  chickens.  But  the  march  of  civiliza- 
tion had  swept  away  the  ubiquitous  goat  and  the  pro- 
cessions of  geese  with  the  patriarch  at  their  head.  Con 
worked  steadily  at  his  trade,  and  built  himself  a  cabin, 
tilling  his  "  farrum  "  by  odd  spells.  Con  had  come  full 
grown,  too  late  for  the  public  school  ;  but  he  was  adapt- 
ive, and  he  honored  the  ways  of  the  country  that  had 
adopted  him.  When  the  family  outgrew  the  cabin  he 
built  a  snug  two-story  brick  house,  and,  as  he  could  save 
a  little  money,  erected  others.  Now  there  were  four  be- 
sides his  own,  the  corner  one.  Each  had  a  pretty  yard 
and  was  tenanted  by  thrifty,  tidy  people,  two  or  three  of 
whom  they  had  known  in  the  old  country.  True,  there 
were  no  end  of  children,  and  the  march  of  civilization 
was  now  fain  to  sweep  away  Murray's  Row,  but  Con  had 
a  long  head.  Beside,  he  was  doing  a  thriving  business, 
and  the  land  was  a  pretty  bit  of  fortune  in  itself. 

It  was  so  bright  a  spot  that  people,  driving  by,  often 
went  more  slowly  to  enjoy  it.  The  peaches,  pears,  and 
the  lovely  old,  wide-spreading  apple-tree  gave  a  wealth 
of  bloom.  Later  there  was  no  end  of  roses,  carnations, 
sweetwilliams,  dahlias,  and,  until  hard  frost  came,  great 
mounds  of  chrysanthemums. 

The  "  show  "  was  under  the  old  apple-tree.  This  spot 
was  given  over  to  the  children  by  common  consent.  All 
the  Row  were  made  welcome  on  Saturday  afternoon. 

Of  the  Murrays  properthere  were  seven.  Con,  junior, 
was  a  fine  blue-eyed  lad,  past  fourteen,  with  an  ambi- 
tion to  enter  the  Free  Acaclemv,  as  it  was  first  christened. 


4  SHERBURNE   HOUSE. 

Tessy  was  twelve,  Jamsie  next,  and  so  onto  Laddie,  who 
lay  out  in  the  hammock  kicking  up  his  chubby  bare  feet 
and  crowing.  It  had  passed  into  a  proverb  that  the 
Murray  babies  were  good  and  healthy.  They  lived  out 
of  doors  in  the  summer.  They  had  plenty  of  milk  and 
the  best  bread  in  the  city.  Con,  senior,  was  quite  sure 
of  that. 

As  for  the  "  naybur  "  children,  space  would  fail  me  to- 
do  them  justice.  Playing  in  the  Murrays'  yard  was  their 
acme  of  delight.  When  one  was  particularly  obstrep- 
erous, Mrs.  Murray  said  : 

"  Ye' 11  not  be  allowed  in  for  a  whole  week,"  and  the 
lad  glanced  through  the  pickets  with  large,  longing 
eyes.  There  never  was  a  more  gentle-spoken  woman, 
nor  one  more  readily  obeyed. 

"  Ye  do  be  havin'  some  kind  of  bewitchment  wid  ye,'* 
declared  old  Mrs.  McCray,  who  was  grandmother  to  the 
flock  in  the  last  house. 

Dell  had  desired  a  kind  of  artistic  entertainment.  But 
she  had  already  learned  that  concessions  had  to  be  al- 
lowed to  the  sterner  sex.  The  boys  laughed  and  made 
all  manner  of  fun.  Catch  them  taking  part  in  a  "  gals'  ' ' 
show.  And  a  circus  was  the  regulation  entertainment. 
Hadn't  they  always  had  a  circus? 

So  they  opened  with  three  famous  acrobats,  who 
walked  around  on  their  hands  with  their  feet  in  the  air, 
while  old  Mrs.  McCray  shrieked  and  said  :  "I  do  be 
afraid  their  brains' 11  run  down  in  their  heads."  There 
were  some  remarkable  feats  on  the  trapeze  that  depended 
from  a  good  stout  limb  of  the  tree.  There  was  a  clown 
in  striped  garments,  who  shot  off  old  witticisms  adorned 
with  youthful  freshness.  There  were  some  comic  songs 
of  the  day,  an  Irish  recitation  of  Paddy  the  Piper.  Then 
followed  the  grand  spectacular  performance  of  Cinder- 
ella, which  had  to  be  viewed  largely  with  the  eye  of 
faith.  There  was  no  Prince  to  dance  with  Cinderella — 


A   MIDSUMMER   PLAY.  5 

she  would  have  none  of  the  street  jigs  or  breakdown  ; 
but  Tessy  made  a  very  fair  godmother,  and  the  old 
ragged  gown  fell  off  at  a  touch  of  the  wand,  and  dis- 
closed Dell  in  one  of  rather  faded  pale  blue,  with  a  wide 
pink  sash  that  had  seen  several  washings.  There  was  a 
band,  consisting  of  harmonica,  flageolet,  and  clappers. 
Dell  was  going  through  with  some  very  graceful  evolu- 
tions. Grandmother  McCray  nodded  to  the  rhythm, 
and  her  wide  cap-ruffle  flapped  to  and  fro.  A  few  other 
women  sat  sewing  or  knitting  and  applauded  with  a 
"See  that  now!  "  "Ah,  but  it's  a  fine  show,  and  all 
made  up  of  thimselves  !  " 

A  coupe  came  slowly  up  the  avenue  and  halted.  It 
contained  two  persons  besides  the  driver.  A  tall,  spare, 
dignified-looking  man,  and  a  woman  of  sixty  or  there- 
abouts, elegantly  attired  in  a  fine  grey  serge,  with  silken 
trimmings  edged  with  black  thread  lace.  Her  bonnet 
was  of  black  lace  with  a  few  rich  purple  flowers.  Her 
gloves  fitted  exquisitely,  her  fan  and  satchel  were  expen- 
sive, and  there  was  about  her  the  unmistakable  air  of 
being  at  home  amid  luxury,  an  abhorrence  of  vulgar 
commonness  that  curled  her  lip,  and  deepened  the  dis- 
dainful lines  in  her  face,  as  she  caught  sight  of  the 
crowd  of  barefooted  and  rather  disheveled  children,  and 
the  old  Irish  woman  with  a  decidedly  snub  nose  and  the 
wide  cap  border. 

"  Is  this  Murray's  Row  ?  "  sang  out  the  driver. 

"  Ye's  can  bet  yer  head  it  is,"  replied  a  shock-headed 
boy  nearest  the  fence. 

"  Which  is  Mr.  Murray's?  " 

"The  corner,  sure." 

Dell  was  dancing  at  the  King's  Ball.  She  wanted 
none  of  the  shuffling  heel-and-toe  business.  Her  brain 
was  full  of  graceful  evolutions,  and  she  had  a  secret 
misgiving  that  her  practice  did  not  attain  to  the  bewild- 
ering theory,  although  one  of  the  boys  sang  : 


6  SHEBBUBNE  HOUSE. 

"  She's  gay  and  she's  airy, 
And  light  as  a  fairy." 

But  she  was  listening  to  the  delicious  strains  of  the  or- 
chestra and  executing  a  marvelous  pas  seul  with  her  bare 
arms  up  in  the  air,  and  her  brown-red  hair  flying  about. 
Her  dress  was  decidedly  short,  her  boots  generously 
large.  Mrs.  Murray  bought  them  for  the  children  to 
grow  into,  but  they  oftener  wore  out  first.  There  was  a 
long  length  of  dingy  stocking  that  had  once  been  blue. 

There  are  first  glances  that  stamp  like  or  dislike  almost 
ineffaceably  on  the  beholder.  As  Miss  Sherburne 
leaned  forward  a  trifle,  with  an  expression  of  supercil- 
ious contempt,  Dell  turned  and  really  stared  in  an  in- 
solent sort  of  way,  and  brought  down  her  heel  with  an 
emphasis  of  bravado.  Why  fate  should  have  directed 
this  crossing  of  glances,  this  sharp  settling  of  aversion, 
was  one  of  the  unsolved  mysteries.  The  girl's  angry 
eyes  shot  back  defiance,  and  she  danced  the  more  vigor- 
ously. 

Perhaps  I  had  better  describe  Deil,  as  she  appeared 
to  Miss  Sherburne  that  June  afternoon.  A  girl  of  thir- 
teen, running  largely  to  arms  and  legs,  yet  with  a  plump 
body  and  rather  full  face,  flushed  with  the  exertion — 
daring,  aggressive.  A  somewhat  wide  mouth  that  shut 
with  dimples  in  the  corners,  but  unfortunately  it  was  not 
closed  then.  Later  she  came  to  know  the  force  of  reso- 
lution Dell  could  shut  into  it.  There  was  a  broad,  cleft 
chin,  an  ordinary  nose,  a  round,  full  forehead,  with  fine 
brows  that  gave  it  decisive  character.  A  thick  mop  of 
curly  hair  that  had  not  shed  its  childhood's  gold,  \v;is  in 
process  of  growing  out,  and  presented  the  appearance  of 
a  tawny  mane  with  faded  streaks.  The  eyes  were  pecul- 
iar. In  repose  a  lovely  dark,  soft,  velvety  brown,  with 
curious  curling  lashes  that  made  a  swift  dazzle  when  she 
glanced  up.  Her  complexion  was  naturally  fair,  but  now 
she  was  tanned  to  a  gypsy  brilliance. 


A    MIDSUMMER  PLAY.  7 

The  coupe  turned  the  corner  and  paused  before  the 
door. 

"  Hi !  "  cried  Jem  Dooley,  who  had  been  following  it 
with  his  eyes.  ••  Ain't  they  swell  folks  !  Grand  dooks, 
in  a  coach  of  state  !  What  you  s'pose  they  want  with 
yer  mother,  Con  ?  " 

Con  Murray  peered  around  the  corner  of  the  house. 
The  two  passengers  were  alighting. 

"  How  sh'd  I  know?  Maybe  they  just  don't.  Mor'n 
likely  it's  some  one  to  see  father  'bout  a  new  house  or 
something !  " 

Curious  eyes  studied  the  horses  that  stood  switching 
the  tlies  under  the  shade  of  the  great  maple.  Nothing 
happened.  The  matinee  audience  resumed  their  watch- 
ing of  Cinderella,  who  finished  her  steps  and  postures 
with  a  grace  that  brought  rounds  of  applause. 

Be  merry  while  you  can,  Dell.  You  will  never  dance 
with  such  a  light  heart  again.  There  will  never  be  such 
a  bit  of  glamour  as  this  old  apple-tree,  the  radiant  blue- 
ness  of  tliC'Sky,  and  the  quivering  sunshine  all  about  you, 
like  the  waves  of  a  golden  sea.  And  the  gypsy  group 
of  children,  over  whom  you  reign  a  sort  of  queen,  the 
young,  round-eyed  mother  with  her  baby  in  her  arms, 
the  elderly  women  who  are  sunning  themselves  and  im- 
agining a  "  bit  of  ould  Ireland,"  the  soft  shadows  here 
and  there,  the  gay  hearts,  laughing  eyes,  not  over  critical 
tastes  in  simple  pleasures,  the  boundless  possibilities,  the 
temper  of  childhood  in  its  freemasonry  of  give  and  take, 
the  sense  of  unalloyed  enjoyment,  of  unstinted  praise 
\\  ill  never  be  yours  in  this  fashion  again.  For  Fate  and 
Fortune  have  stretched  out  their  long,  relentless  fingers 
to  grasp  you,  and  you  cannot  elude  them.  What  they 
demand  is  your  future  from  this  time  out. 

Dell  sat  down  and  fanned  herself  'with  her  dress  skirt. 
The  boys,  with  some  shawls  and  a  water-proof,  were 
being  transformed  into  a  trained  elephant. 


8  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

"Ah,  dear,"  said  Granny  McCray,  with  the  sort  of 
caressing  intonation  of  an  Irishwoman;  "ah,  dear.it 
was  jist  ilegant !  Sure  if  ye  were  out  Midsummer  Ave 
ye'd  see  the  little  people  in  the  ring,  and  yer  mother  had 
a  look — feeble  and  wan  as  she  was — of  that  strange 
country  that's  nayther  heaven  nor  earth — the  saints  rist 
us  !  For  whoever' s  been  there,  jist  wan  time,  carries 
the  mark." 

Mrs.  Murray  had  gone  indoors  to  attend  to  some 
household  duties.  She  answered  the  driver's  summons. 
The  lady  beckoned  her  to  the  side  of  the  coupe,  with  an 
authoritative  gesture.  Mrs.  Murray  came,  with  the 
courtesy  of  old-world  deference. 

"  Is  Mr.  Constantine  Murray  at  home?"  Miss  Sher- 
burne  did  not  suppose  that  possible,  but  she  recognized 
the  head  of  the  house. 

"  No,  mem.  He's  my  husband.  Would  you  be  want- 
ing to  see  him  ?  " 

"  Did  a  person  die  at  this  house  some  four  years  ago  ?  " 
the  lady  questioned  sharply,  quite  certain  she  would  be 
able  to  detect  any  attempted  falsehood. 

"  Ah,  yes,  mem.  Maybe  that  was  poor  Mrs.  Sher- 
burne.  Perhaps  you  may  be  some  of  her  husband's 
kin,  that  she  wrote  to  ?" 

The  lady  gave  a  slight,  impatient  wave  of  the  hand. 

"  Did  she — do  you  know  whether  she  has  any  issue 
alive  ?"  in  a  rather  peremptory  manner. 

Mrs.  Murray  stared.  "Alive,  is  it?  Perhaps  you  are 
meanin'  the  little  girl.  She  gev  her  to  me,  if  no  one 
ever  came  to  claim  her.  And  sure  she's  been  like  one 
of  my  own.  A  nice,  strong,  bright  slip  of  a  girl,  with  a 
pleasant  temper  and  a  warm  heart.  Would  you  be 
wanting  to  see  her?  " 

The  lady  drew  a  long  vexed  breath.  She  had  not 
wanted  so  much  information,  so  much  certainty  dashed 
into  her  very  face.  Then  she  glanced  at  her  compan- 


A    MIDSUMMER   PLAT.  9 

ion.  She  could  not  shirk  her  duty,  unpleasant  as  it 
was. 

"  I  suppose  we  had  better  alight." 

The  driver  opened  the  door.  The  gentleman  assisted 
her  as  if  he  might  be  handing  out  a  princess. 

"About  how  long  shall  I  say — half  an  hour?"  he 
asked,  as  the  driver  stood  awaiting  orders. 

"  Half  an  hour  ?  "  incredulously. 

"Yes,  you  will  need  that  time,  at  least.  Call  for  us 
an  half  an  hour  ;  "  to  the  driver. 

Then  he  escorted  the  lady,  with  stately  courtesy,  up 
the  flower-bordered  path. 

Mrs.  Murray  ushered  them  into  her  orderly  parlor. 
The  windows  had  flowing  white  drapery.  There  was  a 
parlor  suite  in  maroon  reps  ;  a  centre  table  holding  on 
its  marble  top  a  basket  of  wax  fruit,  that  had  filled  her 
cup  with  joy  when  Con  brought  it  home  to  her  at  Christ- 
inas. There  were  vases  of  artificial  flowers  on  the  man- 
tel, photographs  of  the  children,  and  several  chromes— 
rather  well  chosen. 

When  they  were  seated  the  gentleman  took  out  a  slip 
of  memorandum. 

"  A  Mrs.  Sherburne  came  to  America  four  years  ago, 
about  the  middle  of  April,  bringing  with  her  a  little  girl, 
then  nine  years  of  age,  a  Miss  Margaret  Murray  accom- 
panying her " 

"That's  my  husband's  sister.  She's  married  and 
lives  over  on  the  East  side,  where  her  husband  keeps  a 
grocery.  You  see,  the  poor  thing  was  far  gone  in  con- 
sumption, but  the  doctor  thought  a  sea  voyage  might  set 
her  up.  And  Maggie  did  for  her  on  the  steamer,  and 
grew  fond  of  her  and  the  child.  The  poor  thing  had  no 
home  to  go  to,  and  no  friends,  not  but  what  she  had 
money  enough  to  pay  her  way.  Con— that's  my  hus- 
band— went  down  to  give  Maggie  welcome  in  a  strange 
country,  and  when  he  heard  the  story  and  saw  the  poor 


10  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

body,  who  looked  like  a  ghost,  having  been  sick  all  the 
passage,  his  big,  tender  heart  opened  at  once,  and  he 
brought  her  here.  She  was  very  ill  for  several  weeks, 
then  she  began  to  mend.  She  counted  so  on  getting 
well.  Then  she  wrote  to  her  husband's  people.  She 
was  English  born  and  bred,  and  a  pretty-spoken  woman, 
with  a  sweet  face,  for  all  it  was  so  thin  and  wan.  Her 
husband,  it  seems,  had  died  in  England,  but  his  people 
lived  here,  and  there  was  some  property  coming  to  the 
W  child.  I  don't  just  remember, "with  a  line  of  perplexity 
across  her  brow. 

"And  she  died — "  annotated  the  gentleman. 

More  than  once  Miss  Sherburrre  had  made  a  gebture 
with  her  hand  to  check  the  soft,  flowing  speech,  but 
Mrs.  Murray  continued,  unheeding  : 

"  Yes.  Con  had  no  faith  in  her  improvement,  though 
she  went  around'  out  of  doors  and'  enjoyed  the  flowers 
and  the  childer.  But  she  was  main  worried  about  the 
letter.  Ami  one  morning,  near  the  last  of  May,  Maggie 
was  combing  her  hair — such  beautiful  long  golden  hair, 
rare  to  see — when-  she.  threw  up  her  arms  sudden-like 
and  uttered  a  wild  cry.  I  ran  in  to  see,  and  the  blood 
wa-s  trickling  all  over  her  white  gown.  '  Oh,'  sa-ys  she, 
'  be  good'  to  my  little  girl !  I  trust  her  to  you  just  as. if 
you  were  my  sister.  Be  good  to  her  until  her  father's 
people  send  for  her,  as  they  must  sometime.'  Then  she 
looked  over  at  the  far  corner  of  the  room,  a  lovely  light 
breaking  in  her  face,  and  cried  with  a  strange  joy  '  I'm 
coming  to  you,  my  darling  '  ;  then  her  head  dropped  on 
Maggie's  bosom  a-nd- she  was- gone." 

"  Ami  the-  Intle  girl  "—said  the  gentleman  suggest- 
ively, touched  by  the  simple  recital. 

"  Ah,  it  was  a>  hard,  time  for  her.  But  I've  tried  to 
keep  my  word.  She's  been  like  one  of  my  own." 

"  Were  there  no- papers  of  any  kind  ?  " 

"Papers-,  is  it?1    Yes,  a  whole   boxful.     There's  her 


A    MIDSUMMER   PLAY.  11 

marriage  lines  and  wedding  ring  and  trinkets  and  letters. 
Con  has  them  in  the  safe  at  the  office.  And  her  clothes 
are  in  a  trunk  upstairs.  She  was  a  real  lady  and  had 
lovely  things.  And  there  was  some  money.  After  she 
was  buried  Con  put  that  in  the  bank,  for  the  little  girl. 
He  wouldn't  have  a  penny  of  it  spent.  Maggie  can  tell 
you  more  of  her  story.  I've  had  so  many  things  to  look 
after,  and  babies." 

"  Then  we  cannot  have  the  papers?  Where  is  your 
husband  ?  We  will  go  to  him  at  once." 

"  Sure  it  would  be  hunting  a  needle  in  the  hay.  He's 
paying  off  the  men  at  different  buildings.  And  he  won't 
be  home  until  six." 

"  How  extremely  annoying  !  "  lamented  the  lady. 

"  Sure,"  said  Mrs.  Murray,  with  unconscious  sarcasm, 
"  since  you've  waited  four  years  or  more,  a  few  hours 
cannot  matter.  You  can  see  Corr  this  evening." 

"  We  should  not  have  waited  four  years,"  replied  Miss 
Sherburne,  with  asperity,  "but  the  letter  was  mislaid — 
to  our  great  regret." 

"We  might  drive  over  and  see  this< — this  sister,"  re- 
marked the  gentleman. 

"  Maggie  will  tell  you  the- whole1  story." 

"  We  know  a  great  deal  that  she  cannot  tell  us,"  said 
Miss  Sherburne  shortly. 

"  We  might  see  the  child,"  suggested  Mf.  Whitting- 
ham. 

"I'll  call  her  in  a  bit."  Mrs.  Murray,  flashed  out  of 
the  dbor  and  tripped  through  the  hall  to  the  large  back 
porch.  Barney  Blake  was  drinking  out  of' the  cocoanut 
dipper. 

"Run,  Barney,  and  tell  Dell  I  want  her  this  minute. 
She  can  come  back  to  the  frolic." 

Dell  came  flying  down  the  path,  with  an  apprehensive 
look  in  her  eyes. 

"  Come  in  and  be  red  up  a  bit.     Brush  your  hair,  and 


12  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

I'll  run  for  your  pink  gingham.  There's  some  one  to 
see  you." 

"  That  woman  in  the  carriage,  is  it?" 

"  I  do  not  know  whether  it  is  your  father's  people,  but 
it  is  about — that.  Your  mother  knew  they  would  come 
— quick,  dear." 

But  Dell  had  not  moved  a  muscle  when  Mrs.  Murray 
returned. 

"Ah,  dear,"  began  the  soft,  persuasive  Irish  voice 
that  Con  said  could  coax  the  heart  out  of  a  grindstone, 
"  ah,  dear,  you  wouldn't  want  to  shame  me  !  It's  me 
they'd  blame  for  not  having  you  tidy  and  nice-mannered 
— and  your  mother  a  real  lady.  You'll  be  sweet  now, 
for  my  sake — and  Con's." 

She  unbuttoned  her  faded  dress  and  slipped  the  other 
over  her  head.  She  was  very  deft  at  dressing  the  chil- 
dren. Then,  while  Dell  reluctantly  changed  shoes  and 
stockings,  Mrs.  Murray  brushed  her  hair. 

"  I  don't  want  them  to  call  me  a  slattern,"  she  said. 
"  People  don't  understand  how  much  more  fun  children 
have  in  old  clothes." 

Against  her  will,  manipulated  by  the  soft,  irresistible 
hands,  Dell  was  transformed  into  tidiness.  True,  her 
face  was  still  flushed,  and  the  light  in  her  eyes  was  not 
an  attractive  one  ;  the  eager,  sunny  joy  had  vanished. 
At  this  period  Dell  was  not  as  handsome  a  child  as  her 
dying  mother  had  left,  or  as  she  might  be  in  years  to 
come.  And  just  now  there  was  a  bitter  protest  seething 
in  her  soul,  not  so  much  from  a  thought  of  past  neglect 
as  a  fear  of  the  future. 

"  This  is  the  child,"  announced  Mrs.  Murray.  "  She's 
gone  by  our  name,  and  been  like  our  very  own.  She's 
a  nice,  bright,  truthful  child,  quick  at  her  lessons,  and 
handy  in  many  ways.  Next  year'll  see  her  in  the  grad- 
uating class — and  she's  ready  for  her  examinations. 
Con's  a  great  hand  for  learning." 


A    MIDSUMMER  PLAY.  13 

Dell  glanced  straight  across  at  Miss  Sherburne  defi- 
antly, her  lips  compressed,  her  nose  drawn  down  haugh- 
tily. The  brown  eyes  shone  with  a  crystal  gleam.  Child 
as  she  was,  a  race  antagonism  developed  in  an  instant. 

Miss  Sherburne  glanced  her  over  superciliously.  If  a 
look  could  have  extinguished  her,  the  heiress  of  Sher- 
burne House  would  have  vanished  from  this  mundane 
sphere. 

"  She  doesn't  seem  to  resemble  her  father's  family," 
said  Mr.  Whittingham,  in  an  effort  to  break  the  awkward 
silence. 

"Not  at  all ;  not  at  all.  And  Mrs.  Murray  we  shall 
insist  upon  the  most  exact  agreement  with  what  we 
already  know.  We  have  sent  to  England  and  unearthed 
all  the  facts  of  the  case — that  is,  if  the  mother  has  not 
deceived  any  one." 

Mrs.  Murray  blushed  a  distressful  scarlet.  "Ah," 
said  she  in  her  soft,  lingering  tone,  "  I'm  a  mother  my- 
self.  I  know  a  little  about  a  mother's  love." 

"You  do  not  know  the  circumstances,  nor  how  much 
there  was  at  stake,"  rejoined  *  the  visitor  sharply.  "A 
woman  who  will  scheme  in  one  way  will  not  hesitate  to 
scheme  in  another.  I  suppose  she  looks  like  her 
mother  ?  " 

Densie  Murray's  cheeks  burned  with  indignation. 
"  Her  mother  had  been  very  handsome  I'm  that  sure, 
and  she  had  the  finest  skin,  the  most  beautiful  golden 
hair  you  ever  saw  !  " 

"  Which  is  very  apt  to  turn  red  in  the  next  generation. 
Well,  where  can  we  find  this  person  who  came  over  with 
her?  "  and  the  lady  rose — tall,  dignified,  austere  looking. 

"  Maggie  ?  She  is  Mrs.  Warden,  and  lives  on  Second 
Avenue.  And  you  can  depend  upon  her  word.  I'm 
sure  we  would  have  no  interest  in  telling  a  wrong  story  " 
— rather  indignantly. 

"About  the  papers?"  questioned  Mr.  Whittingham. 


14  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

"  I  suppose  we  cannot  get  at  them  to-night,  more  is  the 
pity.  Let  us  see — will  you  ask  Mr.  Murray  to  call  at  the 
Hotel — say  at  three  to-morrow?"  glancing  at  his  com- 
panion. "  I  will  give  you  our  address." 

They  both  walked  to  the  door,  the  lady  taking  no 
further  notice  of  Dell,  who  stood  rigid  and  resolute. 
The  sleeping  lion  had  never  been  roused  before. 

"Dell,  dear!"  Mrs.  Murray  had  dismissed  her 
guests,  and  now  took  the  child  in  her  arms. 

"  Do  they  want  me?  Are  they  my  papa's  people? 
Well,  1  hate  them  !  I  hate  her,  that  woman  !  And  they 
shall  never  take  me  away  from  you,  never  !  "  and  Dell 
stamped  her  foot  passionately  on  the  floor,  while  a  hard, 
dry  sob  tore  its  way  up  from  her  inmost  heart. 

"There,  there,  mavourneen,  don't  begin  to  worry. 
They  may  not  want  you  at  all.  Sometimes,  in  the  old 
country,  I've  known  lots  of  trouble  about  entails  and  all 
that,  and  estates  that  couldn't  be  settled  until  everybody 
was  accounted  for,"  and  Mrs.  Murray  drew  a  long 
breath,  swamped  among  legal  possibilities.  "  There, 
run  and  finish  your  play." 

"  I  never  will  go  with  that  woman.  If  they  take  me, 
I'll  run  away  !  And  if  you  won't  have  me,  I'll  drown 
myself  in  the  river." 

"  Have  you?  We  will  always  have  you,  my  darling. 
It  would  break  Con's  heart  to  give  you  up.  But  see, 
dear,  it's  getting  the  fag  end  of  the  afternoon,  and  the 
childer  will  soon  have  to  go,  and  there'll  be  all  the 
things  to  put  away.  You  needn't  take  off  your  pretty 
pink  gown.  Run  out,  and  have  a  bit  of  fun  to  even 
up  your  temper.  Come,  dear.  I  dare  say  it  will  all  go 
right." 

She  kissed  the  hot  brow,  her  own  tender  tears  soften- 
ing the  passionate  fever  of  tumult.  Dell  clung  to  her  as 
if  she  could  not,  dared  not  let  her  go.  Some  awful, 
unlooked-for  possibility  darkened  the  future. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE   PHANTOM    OF   THE   PAST. 

THE  delight  had  gone  out  of  all  things  for  Dell.  Poov 
Cinderella  stood  in  a  worse  plight  than  her  prototype. 
The  rags  were  not  so  bad  at  midnight,  when  she  could 
crawl  back  to  her  chimney-corner  and  ashes.  But  if  the 
friendly  corner  had  vanished? 

"  You  don't  do  nothin'  as  ye  did  afore,"  protested 
Teddy  O'Brien.  "  Ye're  so  fine  in  yer  best  pink  gown, 
ye  put  on  frills,  ye  do  that!  I'm  tired  o'  gals'  play! 
Boys,  let  us  have  a  rousin'  Injun  round-up  ! 

Rousing  it  was.  Such  a  shriek  of  war-whoops  !  The 
girls  ran  a  little,  but  they  fell  an  easy  prey  to  their  fierce 
Indian  captors,  who  were  rather  disgusted  at  such  a  pas- 
sive victory,  and  began  to  berate  them.  Mrs.  Murray 
rang  the  bell,  which  was  a  signal  for  them  to  throw  down 
their  arms  and  disperse. 

"What  did  those  big  bugs  want  o'  you?"  asked  Con 
gruffly,  as  they  were  bringing  in  die  stage  properties. 

Dell  glanced  at  him  wild-eyed.  "  I  don't  quite 
know,"  she  made  answer.  "  And  I  hate  them." 

Tessy,  Dell,  and  some  of  the  girls  were  gathering  the 
stools,  shawls,  and  playthings.  They  lingered  at  the 
gate  to  talk  over  the  gossip,  and  wondered  a  little  why 
Dell  was  called  in  and  dressed  up.  The  boys  had  to 
brush  and  wash — their  heads  rejoiced  in  the  O'Reilly  cut, 
a  little  longer  than  the  more  recent  machine  invention. 
The  baby  and  the  two  youngest  had  their  suppers  of 
bread  and  milk  and  were  put  to  bed.  Then  the  table 
was  set  in  readiness  for  Con  ;  Dell  managing  between 
whiles  to  explain  the  interview. 
15 


16  SHERBURKE  HOUSE. 

"  But  we  really  do  not  know  anything  for  certain," 
said  Mrs.  Murray.  "  Don't  talk  of  it  outside." 

Con  came  home,  kissed  them  all  round,  washed  up, 
and  put  on  some  fresh  garments.  Then  they  had  their 
supper  and  tried  to  be  merry  as  usual,  but  it  was  a  dis- 
mal failure. 

"Whom  did  mother  scold?"  Con  glanced  around, 
with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye. 

"There  was  no  one  scolded,"  replied  Densie. 
"They've  had  a  circus,  and  they've  been  the  best  chil- 
dren in  the  world.  But  something  uncommon  has  hap- 
pened, and  after  supper  we  must  go  over  to  Maggie's. 
I'll  tell  you  on  the  way." 

Tessy  and  Dell  cleared  away  the  tea-things.  Con, 
in  virtue  of  his  big-boyhood,  was  allowed  an  hour  out  of 
doors  on  the  block,  and  he  rarely  broke  his  parole.  The 
others  were  put  to  bed  presently,  then  Dell  and  Tessy 
settled  themselves  on  the  front  doorstep,  and  speculated 
as  to  who  the  two  visitors  could  have  been. 

"The  man  wasn't  so  hard  and  cross,  and  he  looked 
at  me  curious  like,"  and  Dell  frowned,  "  but  he  made 
me  feel  kind  of  shriveled  up,  like  an  autumn  wind. 
Papa  did  not  have  any  brothers,  but  oh,"  with  a  sharp 
cry  of  fear,  "  I  am  afraid  she  .was  his  sister  who  was  so 
very  angry  when  he  married  mamma." 

"  But  maybe  they  will  not  want  you.  O  Dell,  I 
couldn't  let  you  go  away  !  "  and  the  two  girls  huddled 
closer  together. 

As  they  talked,  Dell  tried  to  recall  her  own  mother 
more  distinctly.  Her  tall,  slim  figure,  her  cloud  of 
golden  hair,  her  enchanting  music,  the  sweet,  sad  face, 
and  the  tender  love.  A  feeling  of  remorse  seized  her 
— she  had  forgotten  so  much.  She  had  been  so  happy, 
so  full  of  study  and  play  and  interest  in  the  babies  and 
everything.  Con  and  Densie  had  been  the  tenderest  of 
parents  to  her,  and  comforted  her  in  that  sad  time.  Her 


THE  PHANTOM  OF  THE  PAST.  17 

own  papa  she  scarcely  remembered.  Her  associations 
clustered  more  about  his  picture,  and  her  mother's  remi- 
niscences of  him.  The  journey  across  the  ocean,  the  ill- 
ness and  death  seemed  even  now  more  like  a  vivid  dream 
than  any  actual  occurrence.  That  her  mother  had  come 
to  America  to  learn  something  about  her  father's  people 
she  knew,  but  the  Murray s  had  never  referred  to  a  pos- 
sible fortune.  Indeed,  'as  the  answer  to  her  letter  had 
never  come,  they  fancied  the  poor  wife  had  been  de- 
ceived in  her  husband's  account  of  himself.  Such  cases 
were  not  uncommon.  Perhaps  if  Dell  had  been  usually 
beautiful  or  had  carried  about  with  her  some  distinguish- 
ing marks  that  we  are  wont  to  ascribe  to  good  birth,  she 
might  have  aroused  a  firmer  belief  in  the  possibilities  of 
fortune. 

"  And  in  case  no  one  ever  does  come  to  claim  her 
she'll  have  to  take  the  common  everyday  life,"  said 
sensible  Con  Murray.  "  It  will  be  no  kindness  to  fill  her 
head  with  dreams  that  can  never  come  true.  We'll  bring 
her  up  like  one  of  our  own,  and  we'll  never  miss  the 
bite  and  sup  and  the  love.  Sure,  Densie,  there's  as 
much  love  in  our  hearts  to-day  as  when  little  Con  was 
born,  and  it's  been  divided  many  a  time  since.  It's 
like  cutting  flowers — you  have  new  ones,  and  more  and 
more  sweetness  all  the  time.  The  Lord's  been  rare  good 
to  us  in  this  New  World,  and  sure  we  ought  to  be  good 
to  the  little  child  he  sets  on  our  very  doorstep." 

And  bountifully  good  they  had  been.  The  love  and 
interest  had  diverted  her  thoughts  from  the  lonely  past, 
and  made  it  seem  more  dream-like.  Dell  attached  her- 
self warmly  to  her  new  friends.  There  awoke  a  wider, 
more  vital  eagerness  in  her  soul.  Only  very  morbid 
childhood  revels  in  sadness.  There  was  too  much  fun 
and  incident  among  the  Murrays  to  allow  of  introspec- 
tion. And  their  religious  faith  was  of  the  simplest  order, 
which  not  unfrequently  leads  to  the  highest  rules  of  con- 


18  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

duct  in  many  things.  Perhaps  her  four  years'  associa- 
tion with  the  Murrays  was  the  best  thing  that  could  have 
happened  to  Dell  after  her  rather  intense  and  secluded 
life  with  her  mother. 

Con  came  back  and  chaffed  the  girls  awhile,  then  un- 
gallantly  retired  to  bed.  Tessy  grew  drowsy.  They 
shut  the  door  .and  Tessy  dropped  on  the  sofa,  but  Dell 
sat  wide-eyed,  waiting  for  a  word  out  of  that  dreaded 
future,  and  fortifying  herself  into  high  resolves. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Murray  returned,  having  put  in  the 
marketing  on  the  way  home.  Dell  sprang  up  with  pas- 
sionate eagerness. 

"  Oh,  what  did  Aunt  Maggie  say  ?  "  she  cried.  "  Did 
that  dreadful  woman  go  to  her?  But  they  shall  never, 
never  take  me  away.  Oh,  papa  Murray,  you  will  not 
let  me  go  !  " 

"  My  dear,  my  dear !  "  Con  kissed  her,  with  tears  in 
his  eyes.  "  That  dreadful  woman  as  you  call  her  is  your 
father's  aunt,  your  grandfather's  sister.  And  there  is  a 
good  deal  about  it  and  a  big  fortune.  I  haven't  it  all 
straight  m  my  own  miud,  but  I  shall  hear  to-morrow. 
Oh,  my  darling,  we  shall  always  love  you,  never  fear 
about  that.  And  now,  colleen,  run  to  bed." 

Dell  was  soon  asleep,  and,  wlien  she  awoke  in  the 
magnificent  morning,  she  could  not  believe  God  would 
let  anything  come  to  make  her  miserable.  The  three 
girls  were  dressed  in  white  and  wended  their  way  to 
Sunday  School,  the  Murrays  being  Protestants.  The 
boys  had  gone  on  ahead.  It  was  the  opinion  of  the 
neighborhood  that  such  a  fine  flock  was  rarely  seen. 

Then  Con  and  Densie  talked  over  the  strange  nnd 
totally  unlooked-for  outcome  of  Dell's  fortune.  Mag- 
gie Warden  had  been  much  shrewder  than  Mrs.  Mur- 
ray, and  learned  more  concerning  the  visitors.  But 
Con  was  so  dazed  by  the  unusual  turn  of  affairs  that  he 
thought  it  wise  to  go  and  have  a  little  talk  with  his  part- 


THE  PHANTOM  OF  THE  PAST.  19 

ner,  Mr.  Cranston,  and  be  sure  that  it  was  his  duty  to 
deliver  up  these  important  papers.  So,  immediately 
after  dinner,  he  started. 

Certainly  Constantine  Murray  \vas  a  fine-looking  man 
as  he  walked  with  his  firm  step  over  to  the  avenue.  He 
was  now  about  thirty-seven,  an  inch  or  so  under  six  feet, 
well  filled  out,  with  a  strong  decisive  sort  of  manliness 
that  won  favor  at  once.  People  found  him  trusty,  a  man 
of  his  word.  His  honest,  rather  humorous  face,  with  its 
deep  Irish  blue  eyes  and  almosl  blue  black  hair,  was 
attractive.  Murray's  Row  and  the  burthen  of  seven 
children,  beside  the  stranger  within  his  gates,  sat  lightly 
upon  him.  Giving  Dell  food  and  shelter  and  love  was 
an  easy  matter  compared  with  giving  her  up. 

His  partner  was  a  good  deal  interested  in  the  story. 
He  had  seen  the  little  girl,  and  now  he  was  touched 
by  the  great,  fatherly  heart  of  the  man  he  had  always 
admired  for  his  uprightness  and  business  capacity. 

"  It's  rather  fortunate  that  you  had  not  the  papers  in 
the  house,"  commented  Cranston.  "You  will  have  an 
opportunity  to  learn  a  little  more  about  the  matter.  I 
suppose  there  can  be  no  trickery  in  the  case,  but  it 
is  queer  that  they  have  delayed  so  long  to  claim  her. 
Perhaps  they  only  want  possession  of  the  documents." 

"Ah,  if  that  was  all!  But  she'll  fight  against  going 
aw.iy,  and  it'll  be  like  a  death  in  the  family  to  us.  For 
you  see  she's  just  like  our  own." 

"  But  if  these  are  really  her  father's  relatives  they 
will  have  the  best  right  to  her.  Find  out  what  you 
can,  and  be  sure  they  are  reliable.  And  if  you  are  in 
need  of  a  witness  or  friend,  I'm  your  man,  Con.  We 
will  talk  it  over  to-morrow  morning  before  you  take  the 
final  step." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Con.  But  he  went  his  way  with  a 
heavy  heart. 

It  was   years  before   he  was  to   know  all  the  story, 


20  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

but  it  is  best  to  relate  it  here.  The  Sherburnes  were 
an  old,  aristocratic  Virginian  family.  For  generations 
Sherburne  House  had  been  a  bort  of  county  landmark. 
There  had  been  several  men  of  note  in  it,  all  were 
handsome,  high-spirited,  and  chivalrous."  Of  the  branch 
left  in  the  old  homestead,  Edward  Carrick  Sherburne 
had  married  an  heiress,  a  Miss  Lyndell,  and  to  them 
were  born  five  daughters,  two  dying  in  infancy,  and  then 
the  coveted  son.  . 

This  filled  Grandfather  Sherburne' s  heart  with  joy. 
The  lad  throve  finely.  The  old  gentleman  willed  him 
Sherburne  House  and  the  estate,  also  some  mineral  lands 
in  a  distant  county  ;  subject  to  his  father's  right  and  use 
while  he  should  live,  and  charged  also  with  the  mainte- 
nance of  his  only  single  daughter,  Miss  Aurelia. 

Mrs.  Sherburne  had  died  while  her  boy  was  still  in  his 
infancy.  Miss  Aurelia  kept  the  house,  matronized  the 
daughters,  married  the  eldest  one  successfully,  who,  in 
turn,  performed  the  same  kind  offices  for  her  sisters. 
Old  Mr.  Sherburne  died  soon  after  Ned  entered  college. 
The  heir,  beyond  a  peradventure,  of  such  a  handsome 
estate  could  not  fail  of  winning  his  way  into  notice  and 
admiration.  He  was  manly  and  attractive,  had  many 
good  qualities  and  few  bad  ones.  He  graduated  from 
Harvard  in  very  fair  standing,  and  went  at  once  to  New- 
port, where  his  eldest  sister,  Mrs.  Beaumanoir,  was 
entertaining  with  true  Southern  hospitality  and  not  a 
little  exclusiveness. 

She  had  made  some  plans  for  her  brother.  A  certain 
young  lady,  with  a  fortune  in  her  own  right,  whose 
mother,  now  dead,  had  been  a  connection  of  the  Beau- 
manoir family,  was  selected,  and  she  cautiously  threw 
the  young  people  together. 

Judge  Varick  had  married  a  second  time,  a  pretty 
young  girl,  almost  as  blooming  as  Miss  Isabel.  There 
were  three  younger  children — two  picturesque  little 


THE  PHANTOM  OF   THE  PAST.  21 

girls.  For  these  the  mother  had  secured  an  English 
governess  while  abroad  the  preceding  year,  the  daughter 
of  a  clergyman,  whose  refined  manners  and  pleasant 
companionship  had  quite  charmed  her. 

Honora  Trenholme's  home  was  dull,  and  in  an  un- 
interesting neighborhood.  Her  father,  when  almost 
at  middle  life,  had  displeased  his  family  by  espousing 
poverty  when  he  might  have  had  riches.  He  was  a 
student  and  a  dreamer.  When  his  wife  died  he  sent 
his  little  girl  to  an  excellent  school,  but  on  her  return, 
a  young  woman,  she  found  nothing  to  attract  or  enter- 
tain. She  met  Mrs.  Varick,  and  the  children  took 
a  great  liking  to  her.  She  went  over  to  Germany  with 
them  ;  then  came  to  America.  And  this  summer,  at 
Newport,  young  Sherburne  was  a  welcome  visitor. 
Miss  Varick  had  hosts  of  admirers.  He  was  not  a 
very  enthusiastic  one  ;  indeed,  he  seemed  greatly  to 
prefer  Mrs.  Varick  and  the  children. 

How  he  came  to  fall  in  love  with  Honora  Trenholme  ; 
how  any  one  falls  in  love  unwisely,  in  the  face  of  family 
traditions  and  expectations,  no  one  can  explain.  She 
did  not  dream  of  such  a  thing.  She  gently,  perhaps 
heroically,  refused  him.  Then  she  decided,  as  her  two 
years'  engagement  was  about  ending,  and  her  father 
had  fallen  in  feeble  health,  to  return  to  England.  Mrs. 
Varick's  aunt,  a  widow  lady,  was  to  return  in  October, 
and  she  arranged  to  go  with  her. 

\Vhen  the  steamer  sailed  Edward  Sherburne  was 
among  the  passengers.  Mrs.  Goodrich  made  an  in- 
dulgent, perhaps  unwise,  chaperon.  Honora  was 
touched  with  the  charming  young  fellow's  devotion. 
It  seemed  so  different  out  here  on  the  ocean,  away 
from  the  stricter  regulations  of  society.  Honora  lis- 
tened, loved,  accepted.  When  she  reached  the  ram- 
bling old  English  Rectory,  where  the  feeble  white-haired 
man  welcomed  back  his  child,  she  consented  to  a  speedy 


22  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

marriage,  as  she  found  what  a  satisfaction  it  would  be  to 
him.  He  warmly  admired  the  young  Virginian. 

They  went  to  Southern  France  for  the  winter.  Sher- 
burne  delayed  announcing  his  marriage.  Mrs.  Good- 
rich casually  mentioned  it  in  a  letter.  Isabel  Varick 
flew  with  the  tidings  to  Mrs.  Beaumanoir,  and  great  was 
the  indignation  evoked,  although  at  first  the  young 
man's  family  could  not  believe  him  so  recreant  to 
tradition. 

"  I  always  felt  she  was  one  of  your  soft,  fair,  scheming 
women,"  said  Isabel.  "  My  stepmother  has  not  an 
atom  of  penetration,  and  Mrs.  Goodrich  is  positively 
silly.  But  it  is  dreadful  for  his  future  to  be  ruined  in 
that  manner." 

When  Ned  Sherburne  announced  his  intention  of 
taking  a  run  through  Europe,  his  father  had  supplied 
him  liberally  with  funds.  He  was  but  two-and-tvventy. 
Mrs.  Beaumanoir  was  fifteen  years  his  senior,  and  all 
of  his  sisters  were  married.  Not  the  slightest  suspicion 
of  a  love  affair  had  been  roused  in  any  one's  mind,  but 
when  young  Mrs.  Varick  heard  he  had  sailed  on  the 
same  steamer,  a  little  uneasiness  pervaded  her  for  Miss 
Trenholme's  sake,  but  she  discreetly  refrained  from  any 
comment.  The  most  surprised  person  was  Honora  Tren- 
holme.  And,  though  the  Sberburnes  always  believed  it 
had  been  at  her  instigation,  she  was  entirely  innocent  of 
any  complicity. 

Mr.  Sherburne  wrote  at  once,  bidding  his  son  deny 
such  a  ridiculous  story.  Thus  pressed,  Edward  frankly 
acknowledged  his  marriage.  The  Sherburnes,  one  and 
all,  were  bitterly  indignant.  Mr.  Sherburne  at  once  cut 
off  his  son's  allowance,  upbraiding  him  for  deceit,  ;md  a 
step  he  must  have  known  was  in  the  most  flagrant  oppo- 
sition to  their  wishes.  And  as,  at  this  period,  Edward 
had  positively  nothing  in  his  own  right,  it  rendered  him 
penniless.  It  was  too  late  to  interfere  with  the  provisions 


THE  PHANTOM   OF  THE  PAST.  23 

of  the  grandfather's  will.  The  young  man  was  abso- 
lutely stunned.  He  felt  that  he  had  acted  with  injudi- 
cious haste  and  not  paid  his  family  proper  respect,  but 
he  was  extravagantly  in  love,  and  looked  hopefully  to- 
ward the  future. 

"  Of  course  it  must  be  made  up,"  he  said  to  Honora. 
"You  see  Sherburne  House  is  mine  after  my  father  is 
done  with  it.  It  belongs  to  me  and  my  heirs  inalien- 
ably, as  well  as  some  coal  and  iron  lands  that  may  be 
rendered  profitable.  My  father  has  the  sole  right  dur- 
ing his  life,  but  he  cannot  cut  me  off,  you  see — only 
from  present  income.  And  I  know  they  will  all  relent. 
I  am  the  last  of  the  Sherburne  name,  the  only  son,"  and 
he  smiled  proudly. 

Honora  could  not  regret  her  marriage,  and  yet  she 
was  sorry  it  had  not  been  more  wisely  considered. 
They  went  to  Switzerland,  in  the  summer,  for  cheaper 
living.  Mr.  Trenholme  died  and  they  returned  to  Eng- 
land. His  family  had  him  interred  in  their  parish  bury- 
ing ground.  His  daughter  was  married — they  had  never 
taken  any  notice  of  her,  and  were  not  likely  to  now.  His 
income  ended  with  him,  and  the  young  people  were 
thrown  upon  their  own  resources.  They  went  up  to 
London  where,  after  a  while,  Sherburne  obtained  em- 
ployment, and  presently  their  little  girl  was  born.  She 
was  christened  Honora  Lyndell,  and  they  adopted  the 
diminutive  of  Dell.  He  announced  this  fact  to  his 
father,  but  to  his  great  chagrin  it  elicited  no  response. 

Still,  they  were  very  happy.  If  they  struggled  no\v 
there  would  be  an  abundance  in  their  declining  years. 
Meanwhile  the  Civil  War  had  broken  out.  There  were 
times  when  Edward  Sherburne  longed  to  fly  to  the  res- 
cue of  his  country,  for  though  the  family  deprecated  the 
causes,  they  were  loyal  to  the  old  Union.  In  fact,  slavery- 
had  ceased  to  be  profitable  on  these  borders  of  freedom, 
and  before  Grandfather  Sherburne' s  death  the  greater 


24  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

part  of  the  slaves  had  been  sold  to  more  distant  and  se- 
cure keepers.  But  the  young  husband  felt  that  he  must 
stand  by  his  wife,  since  he  had  in  a  degree  isolated  her 
from  all  other  prospects.  And  so  passed  nearly  five 
pleasant  years.  Then  Sherburne  was  taken  ill  with  a 
fever,  and  inside  of  a  fortnight  lay  dead  in  the  pretty  cot- 
tage. His  little  son  was  born  prematurely  some  hours 
after  the  shock,  and  died  also. 

The  Sherburnes  ordered  the  body  sent  home,  but  took 
no  further  note  of  the  young  widow  and  her  child.  In- 
deed, in  their  first  unreasoning  grief,  they  laid  the  cause 
of  his  death  at  her  door  and  were  intensely  bitter  against 
her.  Mr.  Sherburne  had  a  wild  hope  that,  somehow, 
there  being  no  son,  the  entail  might  be  broken. 

Honora  struggled  back  to  health  for  her  child's  sake. 
She  was  a  fine  musician  and  presently  began  to  teach, 
as  the  illness  and  death  had  made  sad  inroads  on  their 
savings.  Her  leisure  was  devoted  to  her  passionate 
grief.  A  cruel  fate  had  snatched  her  husband  from  her 
and  left  her  to  bitterest  solitude.  She  could  not  even 
have  the  poor  comfort  of  praying  at  his  grave  or  strewing 
flowers  over  it.  And  Lyndell  was  one  of  the  healthy,  ir- 
repressible children,  with  no  morbid  tendency,  to  whom 
crying  and  sadness  were  distasteful.  As  was  to  be  ex- 
pected, the  labor  and  the  excessive  grief  began  to  under- 
mine a  naturally  good  constitution.  When  she  first  be- 
came aware  of  her  impaired  health  she  began  to  consider 
the  future  of  her  child.  She  shrank  from  facing  death 
as  a  factor,  but  if  her  husband  was  certain  of  the  situa- 
tion— and  it  seemed  as  though  he  could  not  be  mistaken, 
that  he  had  in  any  way  deceived  or  misled  her  she 
would  not  believe — then  her  child's  most  vital  interest 
would  be  in  America,  and  at  Sherburne  House.  If  she 
had  started  at  once — but  it  seemed  hard  to  seek  refuge 
in  a  strange  country,  and  perhaps  with  unfriendly  rela- 
tives. When  she  had  to  relinquish  her  church  singing, 


THE  PHANTOM  OF   THE  PAST.  25 

and  found  herself  unequal  to  lessons,  she  knew  she  must 
take  the  step  at  once.  The  physician  talked  hopefully 
of  the  sea  voyage.  She  remembered  Mrs.  Varick's 
kindness  to  her,  and  the  new  world  did  not  appear  quite 
so  dreary. 

But  alas!  She  was  extremely  ill  on  the  journey. 
Maggie  Murray,  who  had  taken  to  the  child  at  the  first 
interview,  offered  to  nurse  her,  as  she  needed  a  constant 
attendant.  And  when  they  landed,  it  was  Con  Murray's 
kindness  and  intervention  that  kept  her  from  a  hospital. 

For  a  while  Honora  could  not  make  the  slightest  ex- 
ertion. Maggie  and  Mrs.  Murray  were  ministering  angels. 
Dell  took  to  the  children  with  the  wildest  sort  of  delight, 
and  became  a  favorite  at  once. 

Honora  Sherburne  told  her  kind  friends  her  pitiful 
story.  She  wrote  to  her  husband's  people  and  waited 
vainly  for  an  answer,  resolving  that,  as  soon  as  she  was 
able,  she  would  go  to  them  and  learn  her  fate.  But  the 
time  never  came.  She  alternated  a  little,  and  at  length 
the  end  occurred  suddenly. 

Once  she  had  said  to  Mr.  Murray  : 

"  If  any  evil  should  befall  me,  will  you  keep  my  little 
girl  and  care  for  her  until  such  time  as  she  can  repay 
your  kindness?  This  box  of  papers  I  give  into  your 
sacred  charge,  and  do  not  allow  them  to  fall  into  any 
hands  that  would  destroy  them.  They  prove  my  child's 
identity  and  claim.  Oh,  be  good  to  her  and  heaven  will 
surely  reward  you." 

Con  promised,  with  tears  in  his  kindly  eyes.  But  his 
experience  had  been  wider,  and  several  deceptions  in 
marriage  had  come  under  his  notice. 

They  buried  Mrs.  Sherburne  in  a  pretty  rural  ceme- 
tery, and  Con  put  up  a  suitable  monument.  There  was 
still  about  seven  hundred  dollars  left. 

"  We'll  put  that  in  the  bank  for  the  colleen,"  he  said 
to  his  wife.  "  We'll  never  miss  the  bite  and  sup  we  give 


2fi  SHKRBL'RNE   HOL'SK. 

her.  I  misdoubt  whether  any  word  comes.  You  see  it 
might  be  so  that  they  could  cut  out  the  young  man,  and 
he  not  exactly  know  it.  So  it  isn't  best  to  put  wrong 
ideas  into  the  child's  head,  if  she  has  to  grow  up  like  ouib 
and  earn  her  living." 

"  To  be  sure,"  returned  Densie.  Con  was  the  epitome 
of  wisdom  in  her  eyes.  He  was  blessed  with  much 
shrewdness  and  common  sense,  and  being  a  perfectly 
temperate  man,  his  good  judgment  was  seldom  dazed  or 
blinded.  He  might  have  been  born  in  the  Eastern  States 
for  his  quick-witted  faculty  and  other  strong  qualities. 

Maggie  married  an  enterprising  young  grocerymaja. 
Dell  overlived  her  sorrow,  as  healthy-toned  childhood  is 
apt  to  do.  There  was  the  companionship  of  the  chil- 
dren ;  the  ever  welcome  babies,  school,  play,  and  a  sim- 
ple kind  of  religion  that  made  them  truthful  and  upright. 
Still,  Dell  did  not  forget  her  beautiful  mamma.  The 
past  was  a  series  of  slow -moving,  pathetic  pictures,  in 
which  she  seemed  to  steal  awesomely  along  ;  the  present 
was  glad,  buoyant,  full  of  interest  and  delight.  Her  life 
had  been  so  solitary  heretofore,  shut  out  from  those  of 
her  own  age.  And*  the  M arrays  were  a  merry  lot.  They 
squabbled,  they  teased  and  laagbed  at  each  oilier,  but 
they  were  obliging,  cheerful,  light-hearted.  Densie 
Murray  had  not  been  trained  i»  the  an-ajytic  or  intro- 
spective1 school,  and  perhaps  thought  more  ot  keeping 
their  bodies  clean  and  sound  than  of  peering  or  prying 
into  their  souls  or  brains. 

So  four  years  had  come  and  gone.  Dell  was  so  in- 
corporated into  the  family  that  she  vised  their 
though  some  of  the  neighbors  remembered  her  mother, 
they  always  called  her  Dell  Murray.  There  was  not  a 
thought  of  any  one  claiming  her  now.  She  was  a  bright 
scholar,  and  Con  had  settled  in  his.  mind  that  she  would 
study  for  a  teacher.  Her  little  money  laid  on  interest, 
and  would  be  a  nice  bit  when  she  married. 


THE  PHANTOM   OF   THE   PAST.  2? 

For  though  Constamine   Murray   was  fast  becoming  a 

successful  business  man,  he  was  as'  simple  at  heart  as 
when  he  fiist  set  foot  in  the  new  country.  He  had  not 
begun  to  dream  of  being  a  rich  man.  He  was  fond  of 
work,  and  his  garden  was  a  delight.  Little  had  he 
dreamed  of  it  being  a  tolerable  gold  mine. 


CHAPTER   III. 

A   BATTLE   WITH    DESTINY. 

MANY  things  had  tended  to  keep  alive  a  sense  of  re- 
sentment with  the  Sherburnes.  If  Dell  had  proved  a  boy, 
her  grandfather  would  have  felt  that  he  must  be  insti- 
tuted in  his  rightful  position.  There  were  perplexities 
brought  about  by  the  war,  some  family  anxieties,  and  the 
influence  was  all  on  the  wrong  side. 

Miss  Varick  fanned  the  flame  of  resentment.  She  did 
not  too  cordially  approve  of  her  young  stepmother  and 
she  was  piqued  that  a  man  who  had  the  opportunity  of 
asking  her  hand  in  marriage  should  have  preferred  an 
unknown  nobody.  Mrs.  Beaumanoir  was  extremely  in- 
dignant, and  did  not  hesitate  to  call  Honora  "  that  Eng- 
lish adventuress."  Aunt  Aurelia  was  of  the  old  aristo- 
cratic school,  a  great  stickler  for  good  blood,  and  she 
esteemed  it  a  positive  disgrace.  Still  she  pitied  rather 
than  blamed  "  poor  infatuated  Edward." 

Yet  the  extreme  bitterness  of  feeling  had  begun  to 
abate  a  little  when  they  were  shocked  to  the  innermost 
soul  by  the  tidings  of  his  sudden  death.  In  a  certain 
sense  they  felt  the  wife  had  been  the  cause. 

"  If  there  cou/dhe  some  change  made  in  that  unfortu- 
nate will,"  Mr.  Sherburne  groaned  to  his  sister.  "Of 
course  father  never  dreamed  of  such  a  contingency. 
But  he  might  have  trusted  me  to  do  what  was  right." 

However,  there  was  the  unlucky  clause — "  to  him  and 
his  heirs,  forever."  And  the  will  was  on  record. 

"  And  there  is  Leonard.     The  eldest  grandson  ought 
to   take    Sherburne    House    and   the   name,"   said    Miss 
Aurelia.      "  Oh  poor,  misguided  Ned  !  " 
28 


A   BATTLE    WITH  DESTINY.  2fr 

"  She  has  no  right  here  at  all,"  announced  Mrs.  Bean— 
manoir.  "And  while  father  lives,  no  one  can  come  in. 
Of  course  the  child  may  die,  and  that  will  end  it.  If  she 
never  comes  into  possession  the  mother  will  have  no- 
claim.  Oh,  how  could  Edward  have  been  so  blind  I  " 

The  Beaumanoir  estate  joined  Sherburne  House. 
There  were  five  bright,  attractive  children.  Mrs.  Lepage 
was  settled  in  Baltimore,  but  made  frequent  visits  at 
home,  and  of  her  four  children  the  two  eldest  were 
promising  boys.  Mrs.  Stanwood,  the  youngest  daughter, 
spent  much  of  her  time  at  Sherburne  House.  Mr.  Sher- 
burne was  exceedingly  fond  of  his  grandchildren,  but. 
Miss  Aurelia,  who  was  reckoned  to  have  a  fine  head  for 
business,  relieved  him  of  many  cares,  as  his  health  had 
grown  rather  precarious.  Indeed,  during  the  winter  of 
four  years  previous,  he  had  shown  some  rather  alarming 
symptoms,  and  in  March  he  had  started  for  the  Pacific 
coast  with  the  Stanwoods. 

Honora's  letter  had  come,  and  been  laid  aside  for  re- 
mailing.  Then  Mrs.  Beaumanoir  in  hunting  up  some 
important  papers,  had  unwittingly  given  it  a  little  tip  and 
sent  it  down  a  crack  into  a  compartment  rarely  used. 
Miss  Aurelia  took  up  another  New  York  letter  of  slight 
importance,  unaware  there  had  been  two.  And  there 
the  letter  was  to  slumber  securely. 

At  first  Mr.  Sherburne  seemed  quite  his  olden  self  on 
his  return.  There  was  a  vague  sort  of  misgiving  in  his 
mind  that  some  inquiries  ought  to  be  instituted  concern- 
ing Edward's  child.  His  obstinate  faith  that  something 
oiight  to  be  done  to  change  the  will  clung  to  him,  al- 
though he  had  been  assured  that  only  the  child's  death 
while  a  minor  could  render  it  nugatory.  But  springs 
came  and  autumns  vanished,  until,  one  day,  the  dread 
destroyer,  paralysis,  laid  his  heavy  hand  on  the  now 
rather  delicate  frame,  and  for  six  months  or  more  it  was 
but  a  death  in  life.  His  sister  nursed  him  devotedly.. 


30  &HEHBURNE  HOLSE. 

his  children  and  grandchildren  were  tender  and  assiduous 
until  the  end. 

Mr.  Whittingham,  the  family  adviser,  came  to  look 
over  the  important  papers.  The  bulk  of  Mr.  Sher- 
burne's  own  property  was  divided  between  his  sister  and 
Leonard  Beaumanoir,  but  there  were  remembrances  to 
every  one.  And  now  the  letter  was  exhumed  from  its  hid- 
ing-place and  perused  with  something  like  consternation. 
Certainly  it  had  never  been  opened  before. 

What  was  to  be  done?  Until  the  truth  was  evolved 
about  Edward's  child  there  could  be  no  settlement  of  the 
estate.  Her  right  was  incontrovertible. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lepage  were  just  going  abroad,  and 
proposed  to  ascertain  the  truth  of  the  marriage  and  the 
birth  of  the  child,  before  any  steps  nearer  home  were 
taken.  Indeed,  she  and  Mrs.  Beaumanoir  had  a  confi- 
dent feeling  that  a  thorough  examination  would  reveal 
some  trickery  or  debatable  link.  The  letter  might  be 
that  of  a  skilful  adventuress,  since  it  had  not  been  fol- 
lowed up  by  any  notification  of  the  death. 

But  the  Lepages  found  a  most  orthodox  marriage. 
They  also  unearthed  the  simple  life  in  a  London  suburb, 
the  births  of  two  children  and  the  death,  the  after  life  of 
Mrs.  Sherburne,  her  failing  health,  and  her  American 
voyage.  There  was  no  weak  or  disreputable  link. 

"I  will  send  to  New  York,"  proposed  Mr.  Whitting- 
ham, "  and  get  some  one  to  make  a  few  quiet  inquiries 
•about  these  Murray s.  But  the  poorer  classes  move 
about  so  continually  that  it  may  be  difficult  to  trace 
them." 

Miss  Aurelia  sighed.  She  was  too  much  of  a  Chris- 
tian to  hope  deliberately  that  the  child  was  dead.  But 
she  shrank  instinctively  from  the  low  associations  and 
alien  blood  that  must  hereafter  be  grafted  upon  their 
pine  stock.  And  she  did  want  her  favorite  Leonard 
lieaumanoir  to  be  the  next  master  in  this  fine  old  house. 


A   BATTLE    WITH  DESTINY.  31 

When  the  word  came  there  could  be  no  further  ex- 
cuse for  delay  ;  Mrs.  Sherburne  had  died  four  years 
earlier.  Her  little  girl  was  still  with  the  Murrays.  Of 
course  she  must  be  brought  home  and  educated  for  her 
station.  "And  how  can  I  endure  her  here!  "  groaned 
Miss  Aurelia. 

"  There  is  another  resource — sending  her  to  some  nice 
school,"  suggested  the  lawyer. 

"  But  she  will  be  such  an  utter  barbarian  after  years 
of  low  Irish  associations  !  No,  we  may  as  well  face  the 
bitter  trial  at  once,  and  civilize  her  as  speedily  as  possi- 
ble," was  the  reply. 

So  it  was  decided  that  Miss  Sherburne  and  Mr.  Whit- 
tingham  should  proceed  forthwith  to  New  York,  and 
learn  how  well  the  case  could  be  authenticated. 

The  result  of  the  interview  the  reader  knows.  But 
what  pen  can  do  justice  to  Miss  Sherburne's  indignant 
disgust  as  they  two  took  their  places  again  in  the  coupe. 

"That  child!"  The  words  choked  her.  "That 
wild-Indian-looking  thing  who  dances  for  the  amusement 
of  a  crowd  of  street  boys !  I  saw  her  as  she  turned  her 
impudent  eyes  toward  the  coupe  ;  and  that  great  shock  of 
red  hair,  that  squat,  ungainly  figure.  She  never  can  be 
Edward's  child  ! 

"  But  they  certainly  would  have  no  object  in  putting 
forth  a  pretender,"  interposed  the  lawyer. 

"  But  she — the  mother — might.  Edward  sent  a  pic- 
ture of  his  wife  when  he  confessed  the  marriage,  but  it 
might  have  flattered  her.  He  thought  her  so  beautiful, 
poor  misguided  boy  !  And  Ned  was  handsome  enough. 
She  cannot  be  his  child.  I  will  not  believe  it  until  the 
papers  are  forthcoming.  Oh,  my  friend,  use  your  ut- 
most efforts  to  prevent  a  deception.  To  have  that  thing 
foisted  upon  the  family  !  " 

Mr.  Whittingham  sympathized  keenly  with  the  Sher- 
burnes.  He  had  somehow  idealized  Edward's  child,  and 


32  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

«felt  disappointed.  But  he  was  touched  with  the  sym- 
pathy and  attention  the  Murrays  had  paid  to  the  dying 
woman  and  her  child. 

They  found  Mrs.  Warden,  who  told  her  story  with  a 
kind  of  indignant  passion.  She  recapitulated  the  fever- 
ish waiting,  the  dread  of  leaving  her  child,  the  earnest 
-desire  to  meet  her  husband's  people,  the  sweetness  and 
refinement  of  her  nature,  and  the  kindliness  of  the 
Murrays. 

"  We  shall  reward  them  for  all  their  trouble,"  re- 
turned the  lady  haughtily. 

"  You  never  can  reward  them  !  "  cried  warm-hearted 
Maggie.  "  No  money  can  do  it.  Many  a  one  would 
have  sent  the  child  to  some  charitable  institution  as  soon 
a.s  the  little  money  was  gone,  but  my  brother  would 
have  cut  off  his  right  arm  sooner  than  touch  a  penny 
of  it." 

"An  underbred  woman,"  declared  Miss  Sherburne. 
•"  Now,  Mrs.  Murray  does  seem  to  understand  her  place. 
It  is  a  pity  the  child  should  have  been  under  such  in- 
fluences, if  she  should  prove  my  nephew's  daughter.  But 
I  must  be  thoroughly  convinced." 

"Yes,  yes,  indeed,"  responded  Mr.  Whittingham, 
though  he  had  very  little  fear  of  the  result. 

The  interview  with  Mr.  Murray  established  one  fact, 
that  they  were  in  no  degree  desirous  of  parting  with 
Lyndell.  Indeed,  he  begged  she  might  be  left  with 
them  until  autumn  at  least. 

"  That  will  be  quite  impossible,  if  she  is  proved  to  be  a 
Sherburne.  She  must  be  brought  up  as  befits  her  sta- 
tion," said  the  lady  decisively. 

Con  Murray's  bright  face  shadowed  a  little. 

"It'll  be  hard  for  her,"  he  said,  in  his  simple  way. 
•"She's  so  fond  of  the  children.  And  they'll  miss  her. 
Oh,  ma'am,  I  could  almost  wisll  thnt  she  didn't  belong 
to  any  one  and  that  we  might  keep  her  always." 


A    BATTLE    WITH  DESTINE  33 

"  I  should  think  you  had  enough  mouths  to  feed,  with- 
out her,  my  good  man,"  was  the  reply. 

"  But  there  would  always  be  enough.  And  I  am  not 
quite  a  poor  man,  either.  You  don't  think,  ma'am, >v 
awkwardly  twisting  the  button  of  his  coat,  "that  you 
could  spare  her  a  month  or  two  to  get  a  little  used  to. 
the  idea?  You  see  she's  known  no  other  real  home  foir 
so  long,"  and  his  tone  sank  to  persuasive  pleading. 

"The  idea  of  being  an  heiress  will  compensate  her.'" 
said  the  lady,  with  some  bitterness. 

"Oh,  you  are  quite  wrong  there,  ma'am.  That 
wouldn't  touch  her  at  all." 

"  Mr.  Murray,  I  must  warn  you  not  to  pin  your  faith 
on  such  theories  of  simplicity.  When  she  comes  to  un- 
derstand the  truth,  you  will  find  her  ready  enough  to  ac- 
cept the  good  things  of  prosperity.  Do  not  count  on  any 
great  remembrance  from  her — children's  gratitude  is 
proverbially  short-lived.  I  wish  we  could  relinquish  her 
to  you,  but  we  are  prepared  to  do  our  full  duty  in  the 
case,  if  she  really  belongs  to  us,  which  cannot  be  told 
until  the  papers  are  produced.  Be  here  as  early  as  you; 
can,  to-morrow.  We  are  anxious  to  get  through  as  soon, 
as  possible." 

The  tone  was  dry  and  hard,  with  a  certain  flavor  of 
unwillingness  to  accept  the  facts. 

"  Yes,"  said  Con,  with  a  great  ache  at  his  heart.  Oh_ 
how  could  they  give  warm-hearted,  quick-tempered,, 
generous  Dell  into  such  hands  ! 

Mr.  Whittingham  followed  him  through  the  long  hall 
and  down  the  stairs,  endeavoring,  in  an  amiable  way,  to- 
soften  the  impression  the  asperity  of  his  companion  had 
made.  He  knew  the  hopes  and  ambitions  of  the  Sher- 
burnes  so  well,  and  the  intensity  of  their  disappointment^ 
If  the  child  were  only  pretty  or  winsome  ! 

Con  returned  with  a  heavy  heart.  The  children  had 
gone  down  to  the  Park.  Con,  Densie,  and  the  baby  sat 


34  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

under  the  old  apple-tree,  the  baby  crowing  gleefully 
while  they  "talked  it  over."  Densie's  motherly  heart 
ached  for  poor  Dell. 

But  the  evening  was  delightful.  They  always  sang 
hymns,  and  more  than  one  passer-by  stopped  to  listen. 
Con  kissed  Dell  almost  lightly,  he  was  so  afraid  of  show- 
ing his  coming  grief. 

T!ie  children  went  off  to  school  the  next  morning  as 
usual,  except  that  Dell  was  really  impatient,  as  if  there 
•was  safety  in  getting  away. 

Con  and  Mr.  Cranston  went  down  with  the  box  of 
papers.  Miss  Sherburne  would  fain  have  dismissed  them 
immediately,  but  Mr.  Whittingham  evinced  a  proper  re- 
spect for  their  rights  in  the  matter. 

Alas  !  If  Miss  Sherburne  had  a  hope  it  was  doomed  to 
speedy  extinguishment.  There  was  the  marriage  certifi- 
cate, Lyndell's  birth  record,  and  a  christening  card. 
Letters,  some  of  Edward's  own  trinkets,  and  the  very 
watch  Aunt  Aurelia  had  given  him.  There  was  also  a 
sealed  packet  inscribed  :  "  To  my  dear  daughter,  Honora 
Lyndell  Sherburne,  from  her  mother.  To  be  given  her 
on  her  fifteenth  birthday." 

Mr.  Whittingham  went  carefully  over  the  papers. 
There  could  be  no  further  question.  The  facts  which 
they  had  already  gleaned  were  substantiated.  Honora 
Lyndell  was  her  father's  heiress  and  sole  mistress  of 
Sherburne  House. 

Miss  Aurelia  Sherburne  swallowed  her  bitter  draught 
bravely,  but  with  a  kind  of  passionate  protest  on  behalf 
of  Leonard  Beaumanoir.  She  had  hoped  against  hope, 
but  she  could  not  go  against  law  and  proof. 

"  Nothing  remains  then  but  to  take  the  child  to  her 
proper  home,"  she  declared  incisively.  "And  this 
worthy  man  must  be  reimbursed  for  the  expense  he  so 
kindly  assumed.  Of  course,  we  should  have  relieved  you 
at  once  if  that  unfortunate  letter  had  not  been  mislaid." 


f 

A    BATTLE    WITH  DESTINY.  35 

"I  shall  take  no  gift  or  payjnent,"  returned  Con 
Murray,  with  so  large  and  gracious  a  dignity  that  Miss 
Sherburne  flushed  with  a  sense  of  shame.  For,  certainly, 
here  was  the  higher  birthright  of  a  gentleman,  the  tine, 
honorable  soul.  Something  gave  her  conscience  a  twinge. 
Under  any  other  circumstances  she  would  have  done 
justice  to  his  manliness.  "The  child  has  always  been 
welcome  to  our  love  and  care,  just  as  the  mother  was. 
No  one,  unless  he  had  the  heart  of  a  stone,  could  have 
left  her  to  die  friendless  and  forlorn.  All  that  we  have 
done  she  and  the  child  are  quite  welcome  to,  and  I  am 
willing  to  trust  to  Dell's  gratitude  in  the  years  to  come." 

Miss  Sherburne  bit  her  lip  with  a  sense  of  discomfiture. 
She  hated  to  feel  that  any  one  connected  with  her  family 
should  remain  under  any  sense  of  obligation  to  the 
Murrays.  Not  that  she  had  any  faith  in  Dell's  lasting 
gratitude.  She  considered  herself  an  excellent  judge  of 
human  nature,  and  she  was  quite  sure  the  girl  had  a 
stolid,  ungracious  temperament,  quite  deficient  in  the 
finer  qualities  that  generations  of  culture  and  breeding 
develop. 

Mr.  Whittingham  took  him  aside  to  consult  about 
arrangements.  It  was  their  intention  to  start  homeward 
as  soon  as  possible.  And  they  had  decided  that  the 
child  must  have  a  suitable  wardrobe. 

"  If  you  could  only  allow  her  to  remain  until  the  end 
of  the  school  term,"  besought  her  foster-father. 

"  It  is  quite  impossible.  No  doubt  she  will  have  to 
unlearn  much  of  what  she  has  acquired,"  said  Miss 
Sherburne  decisively.  "  Let  me  see — I  will  come  at  two, 
and  \ve  can  devote  the  afternoon  to  shopping.  We  must 
start  to-morrow  morning." 

"  You  see  the  parting  had  much  better  come  at  once," 
interposed  Mr.  Whittingham  gently.  "Living  it  over 
will  not  soften  it  any." 

"I  will  tell  her —  '    and  Con  turned   away,   winking 


36  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

his  blue  eyes  hard.  "  You  see — we  haven't  thought  of  any 
such  thing." 

"Children's  memories  are  short-lived,  and  their  pref- 
erences a  matter  of  present  enjoyment.  It  will  be  better 
for  her  to  forget  the  past  as  soon  as  possible.  She  is  to 
be  Miss  Sherburne  of  Sherburne  House,  one  of  the  finest 
old  estates  in  Virginia,  and  her  future  life  will  be  altogether 
different.  You  must  see  that  all  connection  between  you 
and  her  had  better  cease  at  once.  She  must  adapt  her- 
self to  an  entirely  new  order  of  things.  Do  not  make  it 
any  harder  for  her  by  your  ill-judged  sympathy  and  mis- 
placed indulgence." 

Miss  Sherburne  was  growing  irritable.  That  this  man 
could  not  see  the  superiority  of  the  future  awaiting  the 
child,  positively  angered  her. 

Con  Murray  was  not  the  man  to  say  hard  things  to  a 
woman,  but  he  glanced  steadily  into  the  austere  eyes. 
To  think  of  warm,  eager,  impetuous  Dell  falling  into  such 
pitiless  hands ! 

"We  will  come  for  her  at  two.  Try  and  have  no 
scenes.  I  detest  ungovernable  children." 

Con  bowed  himself  out,  and  turned  his  steps  home- 
ward. Cranston  had  left,  on  the  transference  of  the 
papers. 

Densie  was  busy  with  the  dinner.  A  woman  was 
washing  in  the  shed  and  crooning  an  Irish  ditty.  Densie 
lifted  her  eyes  in  amazement. 

"  O  Con  !  "  she  cried.     His  face  told  her  all. 

"She's  a  hard  one,  Densie.  She'll  never  love  the 
poor  colleen.  It's  a  thousand  pities  there  is  any  money. 
But  there's  a  grand  estate,  and  her  own  mother,  poor 
shut-out  lamb,  was  all  right.  She  belongs  to  them.  The 
law  would  not  let  us  keep  her,  no  matter  how  willing 
we  were.  But  how  they  will  ever  take  her  — 

"  Heaven  send  us  help !  "  Then  Densie  dropped  into 
a  chair,  and  cried  over  Laddie's  curly  pate. 


A    BATTLE    WITH  DESTINY.  37 

< 

"  How  we'll  ever  make  her  understand — "  and  Con 
sat  down  on  the  doorstep.  "  But  the  lawyer  explained 
it  all  to  me.  There's  lots  of  relatives  too,  three  own 
aunts,  her  father's  sisters,  and  cousins  ;  and  this  is  a 
great  aunt  who  lives  at  Sherburne  House,  and  that  is  all 
Dell's  besides  ever  so  much  money.  It's  what  her 
mother  brought  her  here  for,  and  we  oughtn't  to  feel  so 
rebellious.  For,  after  all,  money's  a  good  thing,"  added 
Con  retrospectively. 

"  A  slip  of  a  lass  like  that!  "  exclaimed  Densie  in 
amazement. 

"  And  the  old  lady's  right.  She  must  be  educated  to 
fill-the  place  in  the  world  that  the  good  God  has  allotted 
to  her.  But  if  they  could  have  forgiven  the  poor  young 
people  and  brought  them  home,  and  had  Dell  born  in  her 
own  house  !  And  I  wish  it  was  kinder  hands  she  was 
like  to  fall  into." 

Densie  wiped  her  eyes. 

"  Ah,  the  poor  dear  !  She's  hardly  had  a  cross  word. 
I've  often  noticed,"  said  Densie  sagely,  "that  if  you 
leave  a  colleen  alone  to  think  a  bit,  it's  better  than  flying 
out  at  them  with  your  own  temper  in  a  flame.  And 
whatever  will  she  do  without  Tessy  !  They're  like 
two  peas  in  a  pod.  And  all  the  babies  to  love !  And 
Con,  dear,  when  I  Miave  been  tried  with  her,  the 
poor  mother's  dying  face  has  come  back  to  me,  and 
I'd  think  — what  if  I  was  under  the  sod  and  she  here 
mothering  my  little  flock?  and  God  will  bear  witness 
that  I  did  only  what  I  would  be  willing  to  have  done 
to  mine.  And  they'll  know  nothing  about  the  child's 
mother." 

"They  all  hate  her.  They  haven't  the  right  of  the 
story,  I'm  sure.  I  don't  believe  she  inveigled  the  young 
fellow  over  the  sea  to  marry  her.  He  was  hot  for  him- 
self, no  doubt.  So  there'll  be  no  love  lost  on  the  child, 
and  that's  what  stabs  me  to  the  quick.  To  have  the 


38  SHEEBUENK  HOUSE. 

poor  thing  hungering  for  a  bit  of  love  and  the  sweetness 
of  kisses,  and  then  be  offered  a  stone  !  " 

"  Poor  little  lass  !  "  sobbed  Densie. 

"There,  there,"  said  Con  unsteadily.  "I'll  go  out 
and  meet  them  coming  home.  Maybe  the  news'll  sound 
less  cruel  in  the  bright,  sunshiny  streets,  with  the  others 
around.  And,  Densie — you're  that  soft-hearted  — 

"  Who  else  isn't  lacking  in  soft-heartedness  ?  " 

Con  turned  two  or  three  corners.  There  was  a  merry 
flock  all  in  a  huddle — Murray's  Row,  and  some  rows 
besides — talking,  laughing,  catching  an  arm  or  hand, 
giving  a  "last  tag"  and  starting  off  like  a  deer.  Tessy 
caught  sight  of  him  and  bounded  onward,  snatching-  at 
his  hand.  Dell  walked  gravely  and  asked  a  fateful 
question  with  her  eyes,  and,  oh  !  received  a  fateful  an- 
swer without  a  word. 

She  stood  quite  still.  The  warmth  all  went  out  of  the 
sunshine.  Con  passed  his  arm  over  her  shoulder  and 
impelled  her  along.  At  the  gate  she  said  : 

' '  They  will  not  let  me  stay  ? ' ' 

"  Dell,  dear — a/anna — you're  a  great  heiress  and  a 
lady.  It's  just  as  your  poor  sweet  mother^said.  You 
could  buy  a  palace — only,  don't  you  remember  what  the 
good  St.  Paul  said  about  children  being  under  teachers 
and  masters?  You're  to  have  a  beautiful  home  in  Vir- 
ginia, and  flocks  and  herds  and  I  don't  know  what  all  " 
— trying  to  laugh.  "  And  now  you  must  go  and  learn 
how  to  be  a  lady,  so  that  when  you  are  grown  up  you 
can  take  care  of  it  and  prove  a  blessing  to  your  friends, 
a  sweet,  tender,  gracious  woman,  such  as  your  own 
mamma  would  have  been." 

"  I  do  not  want  it,"  returned  Dell,  with  sharp,  short 
decisiveness  that  somehow  suggested  Miss  Sherburne. 
"I  do  not  want  to  be  a  lady!  If  they  wouldn't  have 
mamma,  they  needn't  have  me." 

"  But,    dear,  you    see — if    your    father   was   alive    he 


A   BATTLE    WITH  DESTINY.  39 

Avould  go  at  once.  His  father  is  dead,  and  in  the  natural 
•course  of  events  the  property  comes  to  him.  Failing  in 
that,  to  his  child.  That  is  the  law  of  the  land.  There 
cannot  be  any  evading  it.  And  the  laws  are  made  so 
that  one  person  cannot  wrong  another  without  commit- 
ting a  crime." 

"  I  shall  not  go.  They  can  keep  it — and  the  money 
and  everything  !  "  Her  heart  swelled,  and  she  shut  her 
lips  firmly. 

Was  there  some  latent  likenes|  to  Miss  Sherburne, 
that  inheritance  we  call  family  resemblance?  And  yet 
she  was  so  different  with  her  round  face,  that  could  be 
so  laughing  and  merry. 

"  Run  along,  children,"  he  said.  Then  he  drew  Dell 
•down  the  garden  path.  But  the  simple  fellow  was  at  his 
wits'  end. 

The  children  hurried  to  their  mother  and  questioned 
•eagerly.  Was  it  true  that  those  people  were  going  to 
take  Dell  away  ? 

"You  see,"  continued  Con,  "they  cannot  keep  it. 
The  law  will  not  let  them.  The  intent  of  the  law  is  that 
no  one  shafi  deprive  another  of  what  is  rightfully  his  own 
by  inheritance.  And  you  are  a  minor,  so  you  have 
guardians  to  direct  you.  In  eight  years  you  will  be  a 
woman  ;  then  your  guardians  transfer  everything  to  you. 
You  can  do  what  you  like,  in  reason.  You  can  make  a 
beautiful  home  and  ask  us  all  to  visit  you.  You  and 
Tessy  may  be  great  friends  then.  But  while  Tessy  is  so 
young  we  think  it  right  and  proper  for  her  to  obey  us, 
and  so  it  is  proper  for  you  to  obey  whoever  will  be  your 
guardian.  And  you  have  aunts  and  cousins  in  Virginia." 

"  Why  did  they  not  send  before?"  queried  Dell  with 
unnatural  gravity. 

"  Your  mother's  letter  was  mislaid.  Your  grandfather 
was  traveling  for  his  health,  and  the  letter  was  laid  by, 
slipped  away,  and  was  not  found  until  after  his  death. 


40  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

He  would  have  sent  for  you  at  once — he  would  have 
loved  you  as  I  do." 

"Let  us  go  in — "  they  were  walking  back  then. 
Somehow,  Dell  felt  safer  with  them  all  around  her. 

"  Hallo  !  "  cried  Con,  junior.  "  You  are  very  swell ! 
It  isn't  the  king's  son  exactly,  but  we've  had  the  princess 
in  disguise  and  we  will  be  famous." 

"  I  shall  never  be  a  princess.  I  am  going  to  stay  here 
with  you  all.  I  don't  want  the  money,  nor  the  palace, 
nor  the  hateful  old  aynt ' ' 

Con  sat  down  in  despair,  and  began  to  help  the  chil- 
dren. 

"  You  have  it  already,"  he  said,  returning  to  the  attack, 
rather  disheartened.  "  You  simply  can't  get  rid  of  it.  It 
is  this  chimney-corner  that  has  been  the  mistake.  The 
princess  happened  to  knock  at  the  cottage  door  one  dark, 
stormy  night,  and  we  took  her  in  and  kept  her  until  her 
people  came.  And  now  she  is  going  back  to  her  kingdom 
to  learn  how  to  manage  it,  how  to  do  the  most  good  with 
her  fortune,  how  to  make  people  happy.  Dell,  my  little 
darling,  God  knows  how  dear  you  are  to  us  all,  but  we 
have  not  the  first  or  best  right.  Mamma  and  I  would 
break  our  promise  to  your  dead  mother  if  we  interfered. 
And  now  you  must  do  your  duty,  bravely,  just  as  she 
would  wish.  It  must  not  be  said  that  we  set  you  up 
against  your  own  blood  kin." 

Densie  glanced  up  furtively.  There  was  an  ominous 
lowering  of  the  brows  and  contraction  of  the  lips  as  the 
girl  sat  with  her  untasted  dinner  before  her.  Young 
Con  asked  a  question,  and  his  father  was  glad  to  answer 
it  and  explain  some  of  the  points  he  had  gone  over. 

"Dell,"  said  Con,  "I'd  give  anything  if  it  was  I. 
Can't  we  change  places  ?  Are  you  quite  sure  there  isn't 
a  mistake?"  and  the  boy  looked  up  with  a  shrewd 
twinkle. 

"Oh,  I   wish   you  could,  I  wish   you  could!"     Then 


A    BATTLE    WITH  DESTINY.  41 

there  was  a  wild,  pathetic  cry  that  pierced  their  hearts, 
and  Dell  was  in  mamma  Murray's  arms,  sobbing  tem- 
pestuously. "I  can't  go!  I  hate  that  woman.  And 
she  doesn't  want  me,  I  can  feel  it.  Oh,  you  will  keep 
me  !  " 

Densie  gave  way  at  that,  and  some  of  the  true  Irish 
vehemence  came  to  the  surface.  Con  rose  and  took  the 
girl  in  his  arms,  patted  her  cheek,  and  kissed  down  amid 
the  passionate  tears. 

"  Mavourneen,  you  will  break  all  our  hearts  !  It's  sore 
hard  for  us  to  lose  you,  but  they  will  think  we  have  put 
you  up  to  be  rebellious  and  obstinate,  and  said  bitter 
things  against  them.  Come,  will  you  not  be  brave  and 
bear  your  corner  of  the  heavy  burden  ?  I  can't  keep 
you,  because  you  have  kinsfolk  to  whom  your  mother  de- 
sired you  to  go.  See  here — it  is  just  as  if  your  father  be- 
queathed you  to  them,  and  fathers  have  the  right.  What 
if  some  man  should  come  and  take  Tessy  there  ;  the  law 
would  say  at  once — '  Give  her  back  to  her  father.  You 
have  no  rights.'  And  so  I  can  protect  her.  But  for  this 
any  one  might  take  you  and  make  a  little  slave  of  you. 
So  you  see  the  law  is  our  friend,  after  all.  And  you'll 
like  them  better  when  you  come  to  know  them.  There 
are  cousins  who  will  welcome  you,  and  you  will  have  so 
many  new  things  to  learn.  My  darling,  you  are  going 
to  be  a  brave  girl." 

"Children,"  said  Mrs.  Murray  to  the  anxious  throng 
who  had  left  half  their  dinners  on  their  plates,  "  children, 
it's  school  time.  Kiss  Dell,  and  run  off — she'll  be  here 
to-night,  father?  " 

"  Yes."     Mr.  Murray  meant  to  fight  for  that. 

Then  Densie  took  Dell  upstairs,  brushed  her  soft  hair 
and  tied  it  with  her  best  blue  ribbon,  washed  her  tear- 
stained  face,  talking  all  the  while  in  a  soft  persuasive 
voice,  that  now  and  then  halted  lamely  over  a  sob  ;  ex- 
plaining to  her  that  they  were  to  shop  this  afternoon,  and 


42  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

she  would  be  pleased  with  the  new  dresses,  and  that  it 
would  be  her  duty  to  learn  the  true  purpose  of  the  wealth 
God  was  bestowing  upon  her.  "  For  it  could  not  have 
come  if  God  had  not  willed  it.  And  there's  a  rugged 
way  to  a  good  many  of  the  best  things  of  life." 

Then  Densie  wondered,  rather  ruefully,  if  money  was 
among  the  best  things. 

The  carriage  rolled  up  to  the  door,  Mr.  Whittingham 
alighted  alone. 

"It's  come  powerfully  hard  on  the  child,"  said  Con 
Murray.  "The  suddenness  of  the  thing  stuns  her.  I 
hope  you'll  be  patient  till  she  gets  settled  in  the  new 
traces.  She's  never  known  any  want  of  love,  and 
though  she's  hot-tempered  at  times,  she  has  a  big  heart 
and  a  quick,  true  conscience.  I've  promised  she  should 
come  back  for  the  night.  It  is  the  only  favor  I  ask  of 
you.  By  morning  she  will  have  accepted  some  of  the 
facts  so  hard  now  to  understand." 

"An  excellent  idea,"  cordially  acquiesced  Mr.  Whit- 
tingham. "  Miss  Sherburne  is  very  nervous  and — and 
upset,  I  may  say.  She  is  a  little  peculiar,  and  her 
nephew's  unlucky  marriage  was  a  great  blow  to  them 
all  ;  though,  if  he  had  lived,  it  would  have  been  for- 
given. A  fine  fellow  he  was,  too.  I  wish  the  child 
could  have  looked  like  him — it  would  have  softened  their 
hearts,  so  to  speak.  It  has  been  a  sad  matter  all  around. 
And  we  owe  you  a  debt  of  gratitude." 

Dell  came  down,  clinging  to  Densie' s arm  ;  Con  kissed 
her  and  whispered,  "  Be  brave  for  all  our  sakes.*' 


CHAPTER   IV. 

HOW   DELL   FOUGHT    IT   OUT. 

MR.  WHITTINGHAM  led  Dell  out  to  the  carriage.  She 
glanced  around  with  a  terrified  look,  as  if  even 
now  she  was  meditating  an  escape.  Miss  Sherburne 
nodded  coldly.  The  flushed  and  swollen  face  and  red 
eyes  disgusted  her,  aroused  afresh  the  antagonism  in  her 
soul  toward  the  spectacle  of  the  dancing  girl.  She 
could  see  her  in  her  tawdry  drapery,  with  the  motley  crew 
around  her.  It  was  coarse,  indecent! 

She  found  just  these  coarse,  commonplace  lines  in  the 
girl's  face.  There  was  no  Sherburne  about  it.  Perhaps 
Dell  had  never  looked  so  unlovely  in  her  life.  One  kind, 
tender  word  would  have  broken  down  the  barriers  and 
transfigured  the  countenance.  Miss  Sherburne  went  over 
it  critically,  her  aversion  increasing  every  minute.  People 
who  measure,  weigh,  and  define  at  a  first  glance  take 
what  is  present  at  the  moment,  and  are  generally  tot- 
narrow  and  implacable  to  admit  a  mistake  afterward. 

Certainly  Dell  was  not  amiable  or  gracious.  She 
evinced  no  interest  in  the  attire  chosen  for  her.  Miss 
Sherburne  was  slow  and  fastidious.  Dell  grew  weary  of 
being  measured  and  fitted.  Nothing  seemed  especially 
becoming. 

"The  child  is  hopelessly  stout,"  she  said  in  despair. 
"  You  can  make  nothing  of  such  a  figure." 

"  She  is  at  the  most  trying  age."  was  the  suave  reply. 
"  In  a  year  or  two  one  will  hardly  recognize  her.'' 

Miss  Sherburne  groaned  inwardly  over  the  gloves, 
boots  and  daintily  cut  'slippers,  and  would  have  found  a 
43 


44  SHERBURNE  HOUSE 

satisfaction  in  pinching  her,  but  Dell  would  not  be 
pinched.  It  was  extremely  trying. 

Once  she  stood  a  little  apart.  Mr.  Whittingham  was 
touched  by  her  utter  desolation. 

"  It  is  tiresome  business,"  he  said. 

Dell's  lips  quivered.  Then  one  large  tear  rolled  down 
her  cheek. 

"My  dear  child!"  Mr.  Whittingham's  sympathies 
were  keenly  touched.  "  Let  us  walk  about  a  little  while 
Miss  Sherburne  is  busy." 

Dell  wiped  her  eyes  and  turned  redder  than  before. 
But  she  took  a  quick  step  forward. 

"It  is  very  hard  for  you,"  and  he  was  surprised  at 
the  sudden  accession  of  kindliness  he  experienced.  "  It 
will  be  a  great  change,  and  it  has  come  so  unexpectedly. 
I  can  see  that  the  Murrays  are  warm-hearted  people. 
We  owe  them  a  great  deal  for  their  care  of  you." 

"  Yes,  you  do,"  said  Dell,  with  very  honest  frankness. 

"  And  I  hope  you  will  presently  come  to  feel  at  home 
among  your  new  relatives.  It  will  take  time."  After  a 
pause,  in  which  she  evinced  no  tendency  to  reply,  he 
added,  "  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  buy  some  little  gift 
or  something." 

"  I  did  not  bring  my  money,"  returned  Dell  briefly. 

"  My  dear  child,  you  will  have  plenty." 

"Not  of  hers?"  indicating  Miss  Sherburne  with  a 
gesture  of  her  head. 

"Oh,  no;  of  your  very  own.  Let  me  be  your 
banker." 

"  Did  all  the  clothes  and  things  come  out  of  my 
money  2  " 

"  Of  course." 

Then  Dell  gave  a  bright,  quick  smile  that  looked  like 
a  rift  of  sun  through  lowering  clouds. 

"  Are  you  to  be  my  guardian  ?  "  she  asked  with  a  touch 
of  interest  that  humanized  her  at  once. 


HOW  DELL    FOl'GHT  IT  OUT.  45 

"Probably;  I  am  executor — trustee.  There  will  be 
some  new  arrangements.  You  need  not  hesitate  to 
ask  me  anything — in  reason,"  and  he  gave  a  soft,  dry 
smile.  There  was  a  kindliness  he  had  not  observed  be- 
fore. He  had  a  vague  realization  of  how  alone  she  would 
stand  at  Sherburne,  and  of  the  love  and  companionship 
she  would  leave  behind. 

"The  money  would  have  been  my  own  papa's?  "  she 
ventured  hesitatingly. 

"  Yes.  And  it  came  from  his  grandfather,  who  loved 
him  devotedly." 

"  I  am  glad  of  that."  There  was  a  great  lump  in  Dell's 
throat.  She  should  always  feel  kindly  toward  him  be- 
cause he  had  loved  her  father. 

"Well,  can  I  do  anything  to  gratify  you?"  They 
walked  down  a  counter  of  fancy  articles.  Dell  was  con- 
sidering. 

"  If  you  are  my  guardian,  there  is  one  thing  I  think  I 
would  like  to  have  done.  Mamma  left  a  little  money — it 
is  in  the  bank  for  me.  But  I  shall  not  need  it.  And  as 
it  never  belonged  to  any  one  else,  I  would  like  Tessy 
Murray  to  have  it." 

Her  eyes  glistened  in  tears,  and  she  turned  away  a 
little.  Mr.  Whittingham  was  profoundly  touched  by  the 
simple,  unselfish  nobleness.  To  give  away  this  especial 
sum  had  a  flavor  df  delicacy  that  one  would  not  look  for 
in  an  untrained  child. 

"Yes,  I  will  see  about  it,"  he  said.  "And  now — will 
you  not  buy  something  ?  " 

Dell  considered. 

"  I  should  like  a  ring  for  Tessy.  One  of  the  girls  at 
school  has  an  amethyst.  And — a  seal  ring  for  Con.  I 
can't  j'ust  think  of  anything  else." 

"  You  were  very  happy  with  the  Murrays  ?  I  hope  vou 
will  like  Sherburne  House.  Of  course  you  will  when  you 
are  grown — a  young  lady." 


46  SHERBURNK  HOi'SK. 

"I  never  shall,  never!"  She  uttered  tliis  with  a 
strange  solemnity. 

They  came  to  the  jewel  counter,  and  looked  at  the 
rings.  Dell  selected  two. 

"  Will  you  tell  me  if  they  are  too  costly,"  said  she,  with 
a  certain  embarrassed  hesitation. 

"  No,  you  have  chosen  very  judiciously." 

She  smiled  again.  He  became  aware  then  that  her 
eyes  were  really  fine.  And  the  curious  curling  lashes  had 
an  almost  dazzling  effect. 

She  took  her  two  little  boxes  with  a  thrill  of  pleasure. 
Then  they  sauntered  around  until  they  came  in  sight  of 
Miss  Sherburne.  She  had  finished  Dell's  shopping,  but 
she  had  some  few  errands  yet  to  undertake. 

Mr.  Whittingham  explained  that  he  had  promised  to 
return  the  child  to  the  Murrays  for  this  last  night,  as  no 
doubt  she  would  be  only  a  trouble  at  the  hotel,  and  tire 
Miss  Sherburne. 

"  I  dare  say  she  would  be  an  annoyance,"  and  the 
poor  lady  looked  worried  to  death  now.  "  She  is  the 
most  stolid  and  uninteresting  child  I  ever  met.  How 
I  am  to  endure  her  until  she  does  get  humanized  I  can- 
not divine.  Yes,  I  think  your  plan  is  best.  There  will 
be  the  packing,  and  I  should  like  a  comfortable  night's 
sleep.  Suppose  you  take  her  back  and  come  for  me  at 
Tiffany's?" 

A  cold  farewell  passed  between  Dell  and  Miss  Sher- 
burne, with  strict  injunctions  not  to  delay  them  in  the 
morning. 

Mr.  Whittingham  was  totally  unused  to  childhood. 
He  cast  about  to  see  if  there  was  any  comfort  he  could 
give. 

"Will  Miss  Sherburne — "  how  should  Dell  put  the 
question  ?  "  Must  I  live  with  her  ?  " 

"  She  has  taken  charge  of  Sherburne  House  since 
your  grandmother  died.  Your  father  was  then  only 


HO W  DELL   FOUGHT  IT  OUT.  47 

a  little  boy.  And  your  cousins,  the  Beaumanoirs,  are 
very  fond  of  her.  Some  of  your  cousins-  are  always 
there." 

Dell  had  the  vaguest  idea  of  Sherburne  House.  But 
if  it  had  been  Paradise,  in  her  present  state  of  mind,  any- 
thing else  would  have  been  preferred. 

"You  must  endeavor  t(o  make  yourself  at  home  and  be 
happy." 

Dell  turned  away.  Her  eyes  were  full  of  tears.  And 
in  a  few  moments  they  reached  Murray's  Row.  Aunt 
Maggie  was  there  with  her  baby,  to  hear  the  result  of 
the  morning.  And  she  declared  Dell  one  of  the  luckiest 
of  girls. 

Con  and  Tessy  went  wild  over  their  rings.  They 
almost  envied  her.  Oh,  did  they  realize  what  it  would  be 
to  live  with  that  dreadful  woman  !  Her  head  throbbed, 
her  brain  and  heart  were  on  fire,  and  her  eyes  ached  with 
their  overflow  of  tears. 

"Oh,  mavourneen,"  said  Densie,  "you'll  break  my 
heart  entirely  with  your  sad  face.  When  the  Lord  sends 
good  fortune  to  any  one — a  little  girl  like  you — she  ought 
to  be  grateful.  You  do  not  know  how  full  the  world  is 
of  nice  people,  but  you  must  not  shut  your  eyes  and 
refuse  their  kindness.  God  will  keep  you,  my  dear,  and 
help  you  over  the  rough  places.  Some  day  you  will 
come  back  and  visit  us,  and  we'll  both  smile  over  the 
trials  of  this  time." 

Dell  went  away  by  herself  under  the  old  apple-tree. 
Did  they  really  mind  so  little  about  her  leaving  them  ? 
They  would  not  'have  to  live  with  dreadful  Miss  Sher- 
burne. She  felt  ns  if  she  could  fly  to  the  ends  of  the 
earth.  She  looked  up  over  the  hilly  outline  of  the 
country  beyond.  What  if  she  ran  away? 

The  neighbors  kept  coming  in,  and  all  was  a  kind 
of  confused  jumble  that  nngered  poor,  nervous  Dell, 
with  every  pulse  strained  to  the  uttermost.  Then 


48  SHEBBURNE  HOUSE. 

Densie  put  her  to  bed,  with  some  sweet  kisses.  She 
wanted  to  cry  over  her,  but,  with  a  great  effort,  re- 
frained. 

"  You  must  think  that  to-night  your  sweet  mother  up 
in  heaven  is  glad  to  have  her  little  girl  come  into  her 
very  own  fortune,  and  that  she,  above  all  others,  hopes 
to  have  you  grow  up  into  a  nice,  sweet,  noble  woman. 
You'll  think  of  us  often,  and  know  that  we  think  of  you. 
And  you'll  write  and  let  us  know  about  yourself  There, 
•dear,  don't  cry  any  more.  The  good  God  will  be  there 
as  well  as  here." 

She  tossed  and  tumbled  in  a  strange  passion  of  rest- 
lessness. Everywhere  Miss  Sherburne's  cold  eyes 
seemed  to  follow  her.  To  live  with  them,  to  have 
them  watch  one,  judge  one.  order  one — Dell  was  half 
crazy  with  the  thought.  She  fell  into  a  disturbed 
slumber,  still  hunted  about  by  her  enemy. 

"Poor  colleen,"  said  Con  Murray,  pityingly.  "I 
•wish  it  was  all  over." 

Dell  woke  up  in  the  grey  dawn  of  the  summer  morn- 
ing. There  was  a  wild  effort  of  some  kind  in  her  mind, 
a  desire  to  elude  some  one.  What  had  happened  to 
her?  She  sat  up  in  the  bed  and  tried  to  remember. 
Tessy  was  asleep  by  her  side. 

Ah,  yes!  To-day  she  was  going  to  that  hateful 
•woman.  Must  she  ?  Last  night  a  wild  idea  of  running 
away  occurred  to  her.  What  if  she  did  ?  What  if  she 
•went  somewhere  and  stayed — hid  herself  quite  away  for 
awhile,  and  convinced  them  all  that  she  would  not  go 
to  Virginia.  Some  one  would  take-  her  in,  and  they 
•would  go  their  way  in  disgust  and  be  willing  to  leave 
her  to  the  Murrays. 

She  did  not  stop  to  consider,  but  crept  softly  out  of 
bed,  and  hurried  on  her  clothes.  There  was  some 
money  in  a  little  box  she  was  saving  up  for  Fourth 
of  July  festivities.  She  tied  it  up  in  the  corner  of  her 


HOW  DELL   FOUGHT  IT  OUT.  49 

handkerchief.  She  did  not  need  to  take  any  clothes — 
she  would  come  back  in  a  week  at  the  latest.  With  her 
boots  in  her  hand  she  crept  softly  downstairs.  H on- 
dark  it  was  in  the  hall  !  She  unbolted  the  door  cau- 
tiously. It  was  so  strange  and  solemn,  with  a  few 
stars  still  visible,  but  long  bright  rays  in  the  east,  that 
seemed  to  have  a  suggestion  of  Christmas  about  them. 
The  .birds  were  singing  soft  songs  to  one  another. 
She  commended  herself  to  the  care  of  Cod,  though 
there  came  a  little  prick  of  conscience.  Then  she  sat 
clown  and  put  on  her  boots.  Nero  came  and  thrust  his 
cold  nose  against  her  cheek. 

"Good  Nero,"  she  whispered.  "Stay  here  and 
watch  the  house."  Then  she  walked  slowly  down  to 
the  old  apple-tree,  considering.  She  must  go  up  above 
Harlem,  in  some  of  the  old  country-places.  She  might 
be  taken  in  to  tend  a  baby — she  could  wash  dishes  and 
do  a  nice  bit  of  housekeeping. 

A  little  sound  had  disturbed  Con  Murray.  Did  the 
children  want  anything?  Perhaps  it  was  poor  Dell 
crying.  He  glanced  in.  Why— where  was  she  ? 
Then  he  hurried  on  his  clothes,  and  picked  his  way  as 
lightly  over  the  stairs  as  she  had  done  a  few  moments 
before. 

The  door  was  unbolted.  Nero  was  not  on  the  mat. 
Then  he  was  quite  sure,  as  he  stood  there  uncertainly, 
that  he  heard  a  voice. 

11  Nero  !     Nero  !  "  he  called. 

Nero  wagged  his  tail,  but  clung  close  to  Dell. 

"Go  back!  go  back!  "  she  cried  in  affright. 

It  was  growing  lighter  every  moment.  Did  he  ?ee 
a  small  figure  down  by  the  gate  ?  With  a  stride  or  two 
he  was  beside  her.  She  looked  up  with  large,  solemn, 
entreating  eyes,  her  face  like  marble  in  the  pale  light. 
He  clasped  her  in  his  arms,  and  she  shook  like  an 
aspen. 


50  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

"  Dell,  my  darling."  He  kissed  her  cold  face.  He 
drew  her  to  the  old  seat  under  the  apple-tree.  "  Surely 
you  were  not  going  to  steal  away  like  a  thief  or  a 
criminal !  I  promised  for  you,  if  you  were  allowed  to 
come  back  last  night.  You  would  have  made  me  guilty 
of  double  dealing." 

"  But — you  would  not  have  known.  Yes,  1  was  going 
away — for  a  little  while.  And  when  those  people  had 
^one  back  to  Virginia  I  meant  to  return.  They  would 
find  it  was  better  to  let  me  stay  with  you." 

"O  Dell,  would  you  have  brought  that  terrible  anx- 
iety upon  Mamma  Murray  and  me?"  said  the  soft,  re- 
proachful voice.  "  We  must  have  searched  at  once  for 
you,  and  have  moved  heaven  and  earth  to  find  you." 

"  But — boys  run  away — and  I  can ' t  go  with  them." 

Con  Murray  pressed  the  throbbing  figure  to  his  great 
strong,  warm  heart.  The  sparrows  were  chirping  to  one 
another,  the  robins  were  singing  exultantly.  The  wind 
stirred  the  leaves  softly  and  shook  out  an  indescribably 
dewy  fragrance  ;  the  dim  grey  was  melting  into  blue, 
and  long  rays  of  gold  were  shooting  up  with  tremulous 
beauty  that  faded,  and  renewed  itself  in  a  host  of  brilliant 
-colors  and  shapes. 

Con  Murray  was  not  much  of  a  hand  at  preaching. 
He  could  live  out  such  truths  as  honor,  honesty,  and 
kindliness  ;  he  could  see  their  need  of  application  to 
other  souls,  but  the  formula  of  words  did  not  come  easy. 
How  to  make  courage  and  endurance  a  light  to  guide 
this  shrinking,  protesting  soul,  he  did  not  know. 

He  kissed  her  cold  face,  and  held  her  tightly  in  his 
arms.  Ah,  how  beautiful  God's  world  was!  How 
generously  everything  was  given  !  Why  should  one 
try  to  narrow  it,  to  go  beyond  and  defraud  another? 
Why  were  not  love  and  good  will  free  as  the  sunshine, 
when  Christ  himself  had  died  that  this  might  be  ! 

"Dell," — softly    and    with    great   tenderness, — "you 


HOW  DELL   FOUGHT  IT  OUT.  51 

will  go  like  a  brave  girl.  When  any  clear  duty  is  given 
us  it  is  ;i  shame  to  shirk  it.  Only  your  miserable 
coward  goes  skulking  along  behind  fences  instead  of 
marching  out  in  the  open  road.  God  has  given  the  an- 
swer to  your  parents'  wishes,  and  he  has  set  something 
hard  for  you  to  do — to  go  into  a  strange,  unfriendly 
country.  Oh,  my  little  Dell,  \ve  promised  your  mother 
to  do  the  best  we  could  for  you,  and  now  do  not  shame 
our  endeavor  !  Come  back  to  bed,  and  cuddle  up  warm 
and  think  it  over.  I  know  you  will  come  out  on  the 
right  side." 

He  picked  her  up  in  his  arms  and  carried  her  to  the 
wide  porch,  abloom  with  honeysuckle  and  sweet  as 
Eden.  Years  afterward  it  came  back  to  her. 

"  Dell,  promise  me." 

"Yes,"  answered  Dell,  with  a  shivering  sigh. 

"  I'll  trust  your  promise  to  the  uttermost.  Now  go 
and  roll  yourself  in  a  blanket  and  get  warm,  or  you  will 
be  ill." 

Then  he  kissed  her  fondly.  There  was  the  making 
of  a  splendid  woman  in  her  if  Miss  Sherburne  would 
not  trim  and  train  too  sharply. 

Dell  lay  and  trembled  in  every  fibre  with  nervous  ex- 
haustion. Densie  kept  the  children  so  still  that  she  and 
Tessy  never  stirred  until  the  savory  fragrance  of  break- 
fast greeted  them.  Had  she  been  dreaming  ? 

"  And  you're  here  with  your  clothes  on,"  cried  Tessy. 
"  Sure,  you've  been  and  dressed  yourself  in  your  sleep." 

Then  Dell  knew  it  was  not  a  dream. 

The  carriage  was  to  come  at  eight.  Con  had  left  a 
good-bye  for  her.  The  children  hated  to  have  her  go, 
yet  the  wonderful  happening  stirred  them  almost  with 
envy.  What  the  journey  would  be  like,  what  she  would 
write  to  them,  and  how  soon  she  would  visit  them  seemed 
the  important  points.  And  when  she  was  a  woman 
grown  she  could  do  quite  as  she  liked. 


52  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

Miss  Sherburne  would  have  been  horrified  at  the 
throng  of  people  around  the  house  ;  the  kissing  and  the 
demonstrations.  Granny  McCray  brought  an  old  shoe 
to  throw  after  her,  and  declared  it  was  almost  "  loike  a 
weddin'.  "  Densie  gave  her  one  clasp  of  heartbreaking 
tenderness.  Then  Dell  stepped  into  the  carriage,  and 
everything  blurred  before  her  eyes. 

Mr.  Whittingham  had  left  an  envelope  directed  to 
Mr.  Constantine  Murray  in  Miss  Sherburne's  hand. 
He  had  used  his  strongest  powers  of  persuasion  to  in- 
duce her  to  let  the  matter  of  Dell's  care  stand  at  present, 
and  not  attempt  any  recompense.  But  her  haughty 
pride  would  not  brook  the  sense  of  obligation.  She  en- 
closed a  check  that  made  ample  remuneration  for  the 
four  years. 

Con  flushed  with  indignation  as  he  read  the  note.  She 
desired  all  communication  .between  Miss  Lyndell  Sher- 
burne and  the  Murrays  to  cease.  Her  associations  would 
be  so  widely  different  that  she  desired  to  efface  as  soon 
as  possible  all  interest  and  reference  to  the  past  four 
years.  He  would  see  such  a  step  was  absolutely  neces- 
sary, when  he  considered  Miss  Sherburne's  future,  that 
really  lay  in  a  different  world. 

"  Oh,  how  can  she  be  so  cruel !  "  cried  Con,  wounded 
to  the  soul.  "  To  give  her  the  very  first  lesson  in  in- 
gratitude and  indifference  !  But  she  won't  win  Dell  that 
way.  The  child  is  honest  and  loyal,  and  will  only  hate 
such  strictures.  And  there  must  be  some  good  in  the 
Sherburne  blood  when  the  young  husband  kept  to  his 
wife  and  poverty.  Some  men  would  have  returned  to 
the  feasts  of  Egypt.  And  I  have  a  feeling  that  some 
day  the  child  will  come  back  to  us  with  her  heart  warm 
and  fond  as  now." 

The  children  were  first  heartbroken,  then  angry. 
Never  to  hear  from  their  own  dear  Dell !  Never  to  see 
her  again  ! 


HOW  DELL   FOUGHT  IT  OUT.  53 

"She's  a  mean,  hateful,  selfish,  stuck-up  old  maid," 
•cried  Con  impetuously.  "And  Tess,  if  you're  an  old 
maid,  you  shall  never  come  in  my  house  or  have  any- 
thing to  do  with  my  children  !  " 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  want  to  be  one,"  sobbed  Tessy  at 
this  dire  threat.  "I'm  going  to1  be  just  like  my  own 
sweet  mamma,  and  have  seven  children  of  my  very  own. 
So,  there  now,  Con  !  "  and  Tessy  kissed  her  ring,  which 
\vas  to  be  a  great  comfort  to  her. 

But  the  house  seemed  just  as  if  there  had  been  a  death. 
Con  tore  his  check  in  pieces  and  returned  it  to  Miss 
Sherburne  without  a  word.  The  whole  neighborhood 
mourned  her  loss,  and  yet  they  could  not  but  rejoice 
in  her  good  fortune.  Mrs.  Edson,  whose  baby  she  had 
cared  for,  and  with  whom  she  had  gone  to  the  matinee, 
came  down  to  hear  the  whole  strange  adventure. 

"It  is  like  a  page  out  of  a  fairy  story,"  she  said  with 
a  smile.  "And  I  am  sure  she  deserved  it.  I  hope  it 
won't  spoil  her.  She  has  such  a  warm,  generous  heart, 
and  is  so  utterly  honest !  I  always  thought  she  was  your 
very  own,  Mrs.  Murray." 

"  I  could  wish  she  had  been,"  replied  motherly 
Densie.  "  And  yet  we  couldn't  have  done  for  her  as 
her  people  will.  Heaven  knows  I  hope  it  will  be  all  for 
the  best." 

"And  I  hope  she  will  not  prove  ungrateful  to  the 
people  who  have  been  so  good  to  her !  She  ought  to 
keep  a  warm  corner  in  her  heart  for  you,  always." 

"That  she  will,"  said  Mrs.  Murray. 

And  yet  it  would  be  hard  to  explain  why  they  could 
never  hear.  Densie  shed  many  sad  tears  over  Miss 
Sherburne's  edict. 


CHAPTER  V. 

MUST   THIS    BE   HOME? 

MR.  WHITTINGHAM  paused  at  the  hotel  to  take  up 
Miss  Sherburne,  a  traveling  satchel  and  a  parcel  or  two, 
the  trunk  having  gone  by  express.  They  crossed  the 
ferry  and  entered  a  drawing-room  car.  Mr.  Whitting- 
ham  seated  Dell,  bought  her  a  package  of  candy,  and 
an  illustrated  paper,  but  both  lay  undisturbed  in  her  lap. 
A  chill,  despairing  lethargy  had  crept  over  her.  She 
did  not  want  to  cry,  she  seemed  to  have  no  power  for 
anything  ;  as  if  a  terrible  storm  had  swept  over  her, 
leaving  her  bruised  and  maimed,  flung  on  some  un- 
friendly coast.  There  was  a  dull  ache  in  every  nerve. 

It  was  a  misfortune  that  these  two  people,  destined 
to  be  such  close  companions,  and  united  by  ties  of 
relationship,  should  begin  by  a  violent  dislike.  Miss 
Sherburne  had  by  this  time  reached  her  threescore 
years.  She  was  tall,  erect,  and  not  only  had  an  im- 
posing figure,  but  an  authoritative  one.  Her  complexion 
was  fine  and  very  little  wrinkled,  with  usually  a  soft, 
pink  tint  in  the  cheeks.  Her  face  was  a  rather  long  oval, 
and  a  habit  of  dignity  kept  her  from  softening  into  a 
double  chin  or  relaxing  lines  about  the  mouth.  Her  hair 
was  a  light  brown,  abundant,  and  very  little  touched  by 
silver.  Her  eyes  had  been  a  deep,  violet-blue,  but  now 
had  come  to  have  the  colder  steel  lights.  Ordinarily, 
she  would  be  called  a  still  handsome  woman.  Now  she 
\vas  suffering  from  a  keen  disappointment,  nervous,  anx- 
ious days  and  sleepless  nights.  Her  whole  soul  was  in  a 
protest  against  this  girl  they  were  forced  to  accept,  and 

54 


MUST  THIS  BE  HOME?  55 

whom  she  did  not  believe  in  her  soul  was  a  true  Sher- 
burne. She  obstinately  clung  to  a  feeling  that  some- 
where a  deception  would  be  unearthed.  Then  she  felt 
indignant  that  Dell  should  not  be  overwhelmed  with  de- 
light at  her  new  prospects,  and  positively  vexed  that  she 
was  so  plain,  with  no  distinguishing  marks  of  her  good 
birth  and  old  family  characteristics  ;  that  her  life  should 
have  been  cast  among  Irish  immigrants  until  she  had  no 
higher  ambition  than  they. 

Now  and  then  Dell  caught  sight  of  the  cold,  critical 
face.  She  felt  that  Miss  Sherburne  despised  her,  that 
every  movement  was  in  some  way  displeasing,  that  she  was 
being  unjustly  judged.  It  filled  her  with  a  secret  indig- 
nation, it  led  her  to  adopt  a  rigorous  system  of  retaliatory 
repression.  Miss  Sherburne  should  know  nothing  of 
what  was  going  on  in  her  inmost  soul. 

Yet  Dell's  spontaneity  and  youthful  longing  for  love 
would  have  led  her  to  accept  the  merest  olive-branch  in 
the  beginning.  A  wiser  woman  could  have  found  the 
way  to  her  heart  and  disarmed  all  her  bitter  prejudices. 
But  the  journey  settled  the  distance  between  them  effec- 
tually. 

Miss  Sherburne  was  trying,  with  what  she  meant  for 
religious  resignation,  to  bring  her  mind  to  an  acceptance 
of  the  position  and  its  duties.  A  clumsy,  overgrown, 
unhandsome  girl,  whose  delight  was  in  dancing  to  a 
parcel  of  Irish  children  in  full  view  of  a  public  street, 
could  have  no  proper  sense  of  pride  or  dignity.  Her 
natural  affinities  must  be  low.  She  must  be  held  with  a 
tight  rein,  or  she  would  be  continually  demolishing  the 
fences  of  propriety.  She  could  not  be  allowed  the  least 
indulgence,  or  her  barbarian  habits  would  break  out  into 
license.  How  to  train  her  to  a  proper  understanding  of 
her  position,  how  to  teach  her  respect,  refinement — as 
for  elegance,  that  would  always  be  out  of  the  question. 
She  sighed  at  the  magnitude  of  her  task.  There  was  no 


CHAPTER  V. 

MUST   THIS    BE   HOME? 

MR.  WHITTINGHAM  paused  at  the  hotel  to  take  up 
Miss  Sherburne,  a  traveling  satchel  and  a  parcel  or  two, 
the  trunk  having  gone  by  express.  They  crossed  the 
ferry  and  entered  a  drawing-room  car.  Mr.  Whitting- 
ham  seated  Dell,  bought  her  a  package  of  candy,  and 
an  illustrated  paper,  but  both  lay  undisturbed  in  her  lap. 
A  chill,  despairing  lethargy  had  crept  over  her.  She 
did  not  want  to  cry,  she  seemed  to  have  no  power  for 
anything  ;  as  if  a  terrible  storm  had  swept  over  her, 
leaving  her  bruised  and  maimed,  flung  on  some  un- 
friendly coast.  There  was  a  dull  ache  in  every  nerve. 

It  was  a  misfortune  that  these  two  people,  destined 
to  be  such  close  companions,  and  united  by  ties  of 
relationship,  should  begin  by  a  violent  dislike.  Miss 
Sherburne  had  by  this  time  reached  her  threescore 
years.  She  was  tall,  erect,  and  not  only  had  an  im- 
posing figure,  but  an  authoritative  one.  Her  complexion 
was  fine  and  very  little  wrinkled,  with  usually  a  soft, 
pink  tint  in  the  cheeks.  Her  face  was  a  rather  long  oval, 
and  a  habit  of  dignity  kept  her  from  softening  into  a 
double  chin  or  relaxing  lines  about  the  mouth.  Her  hair 
was  a  light  brown,  abundant,  and  very  little  touched  by 
silver.  Her  eyes  had  been  a  deep,  violet-blue,  but  now- 
had  come  to  have  the  colder  steel  lights.  Ordinarily, 
she  would  be  called  a  still  handsome  woman.  Now  she 
was  suffering  from  a  keen  disappointment,  nervous,  anx- 
ious days  and  sleepless  nights.  Her  whole  soul  was  in  a 
protest  against  this  girl  they  were  forced  to  accept,  and 
54 


MUST  THIS  BE  HOME?  55 

whom  she  did  not  believe  in  her  soul  was  a  true  Sher- 
burne.  She  obstinately  clung  to  a  feeling  that  some- 
where a  deception  would  be  unearthed.  Then  she  felt 
indignant  that  Dell  should  not  be  overwhelmed  with  de- 
light at  her  new  prospects,  and  positively  vexed  that  she 
was  so  plain,  \\ith  no  distinguishing  marks  of  her  good 
birth  and  old  family  characteristics  ;  that  her  life  should 
have  been  cast  among  Irish  immigrants  until  she  had  no 
higher  ambition  than  they. 

Now  and  then  Dell  caught  sight  of  the  cold,  critical 
face.  She  felt  that  Miss  Sherburne  despised  her,  that 
every  movement  was  in  some  way  displeasing,  that  she  was 
being  unjustly  judged.  It  filled  her  with  a  secret  indig- 
nation, it  led  her  to  adopt  a  rigorous  system  of  retaliatory 
repression.  Miss  Sherburne  should  know  nothing  of 
what  was  going  on  in  her  inmost  soul. 

Ye,t  Dell's  spontaneity  and  youthful  longing  for  love 
would  have  led  her  to  accept  the  merest  olive-branch  in 
the  beginning.  A  wiser  woman  could  have  found  the 
way  to  her  heart  and  disarmed  all  her  bitter  prejudices. 
But  the  journey  settled  the  distance  between  them  effec- 
tually. 

Miss  Sherburne  was  trying,  with  what  she  meant  for 
religious  resignation,  to  bring  her  mind  to  an  acceptance 
of  the  position  and  its  duties.  A  clumsy,  overgrown, 
unhandsome  girl,  Vhose  delight  was  in  dancing  to  a 
parcel  of  Irish  children  in  full  view  of  a  public  street, 
could  have  no  proper  sense  of  pride  or  dignity.  Her 
natural  affinities  must  be  low.  She  must  be  held  with  a 
tight  rein,  or  she  would  be  continually  demolishing  the 
fences  of  propriety.  She  could  not  be  allowed  the  least 
indulgence,  or  her  barbarian  habits  would  break  out  into 
license.  How  to  train  her  to  a  proper  understanding  of 
her  position,  how  to  teach  her  respect,  refinement — as 
for  elegance,  that  would  always  be  out  of  the  question. 
She  sighed  at  the  magnitude  of  her  task.  There  was  no 


58  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

There  was  the  usual  group  of  idlers  about.  The 
search  for  the  heir  of  Sherburne  House  could  not  be 
conducted  in  secrecy.  Nearly  every  one  had  hoped 
young  Beaumanoir  would  in  some  way  be  entitled  to  it. 
Of  course  young  Master  Edward's  unlucky  marriage  had 
been  gossiped  about  in  its  time,  but  his  death  was  sup- 
posed to  have  extinguished  his  claim.  Miss  Sherburne's 
cheek  burned  with  mortification,  as  this  unstylish  girl 
walked  rather  hesitatingly  down  the  platform,  and  was 
handed  into  the  family  carriage. 

"  Glad  to  see  you  back  again,  missis,"  said  the  respect- 
ful colored  servitor,  with  a  grave  air,  a  sort  of  family 
dignity  and  inheritance.  "An"  is  dis  Mas'r  Edward's 
darter?  " 

"  This  is  Miss  Sherburne — yes.  There  are  the  checks, 
Ajax.  One  trunk  and  a  parcel." 

Ajax  assisted  the  two  ladies  in,  then  turned  to  Mr. 
Whittingham. 

"You  will  come  over  and  take  tea  with  us?"  said 
Miss  Sherburne. 

"  If  you  will  be  good  enough  to  excuse  me  until  to- 
morrow—  I  am  quite  sure  there  must  be  important 
letters  awaiting  me.  You  have  settled  upon  Mr. 
Beaumanoir  for  the  other  guardian  and  trustee  ?  " 

"That  is  simply  due  to  the  family,"  she  said,  with  a 
feeling  that  she  was  once  more  on  her  own  ground. 

"  Yes.  If  you  will  be  kind  enough  to  ask  him  to  meet 
me."  • 

"  To-morrow,  then.     Thanks  for  all  your  trouble." 

The  gentleman  touched  his  hat  with  a  fine  courtesy 
and  raised  his  eyes  to  Dell's  face.  Ajax  mounted  his 
seat  and  they  drove  out  of  the  town,  soon  reaching  a 
road  that  led  through  a  plantation  of  young  evergreens. 
There  was  a  sparse  settlement  at  the  end  of  this,  then  a 
i  '  Mitiful  diversified  country. 

Dell   uttered   no   word.      A   sort  of    mysterious  terror 


MUST  THIS  BE  HOME?  59 

seized  upon  her,  and  her  breath  came  in  gasps.  She 
was  a  prisoner  being  taken  to  some  far  fortress.  A  sud- 
den passion  overwhelmed  her.  She  could  see  Mamma 
Murray  sewing  under  the  old  apple-tree,  Morna  play- 
ing about,  Laddie  in  the  hammock. 

"That  is  the  drive  to  Beaumanoir,"  announced  Miss 
Sherburne,  indicating  it  with  her  head.  "All  this  is 
Sherburne.  I  hope  you  will  never  disgrace  so  proud 
a  heritage.  You  are  Miss  Sherb'urne,  you  will  remem- 
ber." 

Dell  shut  her  lips  tightly.  She  was  so  near  to  cry- 
ing at  her  own  vision  that  the  reaction  gave  her  a  half- 
sullen  aspect. 

Miss  Sherburne  lost  her  self-control.  "  You  might 
at  least  evince  ordinary  gratitude  and  intelligence,"  she 
cried  in  a  temper.  "You  have  been  rescued  from  a 
life  coarse  and  common  in  the  extreme,  but  I  am  afraid 
you  are  better  suited  to  that  than  to  this.  It  t's  a  pity 
matters  should  turn  out  this  way.  You  do  not  deserve 
it." 

Dell's  first  impulse  was  to  flame  up  in  a  passion.  But 
she  felt  too  sick  and  sore.  She  realized  that  she  was 
considered  an  interloper,  that  the  past  and  her  dear 
Murrays  were  despised. 

After  a  long  wind  through  another  row  of  evergreens 
they  reached  a  beautiful  open  space.  Waving  fields, 
orchards,  graperies,  a  profusion  of  blossoming  shrub- 
bery, a  village  of  negro-quarters  in  the  distance,  tidily 
kept  and  clean  with  whitewash.  Then  the  trees  thinned, 
and  on  a  slight  elevation  stood  Sherburne  House.  The 
main  building  was  a  large,  square,  two-story  edifice,  and 
a  little  back  of  this  was  a  wing  stretching  to  the  south, 
leaving  a  large  porch  in  the  break  made  by  the  angle. 
The  facade  proper  had  a  wide  piazza  roof  upheld  by 
fluted  columns,  and  a  luxurious  wealth  of  vines  rioting 
everywhere. 


60  SHER BURNS  HOUSE. 

They  drove  around  to  the  side  entrance,  a  little  less 
imposing  but  equally  beautiful.  A  dozen  negroes  of 
either  sex,  young  and  old,  ran  forward  to  greet  their 
mistress  with  a  most  obsequious  welcome. 

"Tins  is  Miss  Sherburne,"  she  announced  with  a 
bitter  sort  of  dignity,  stung  at  the  thought  of  her  having 
a  real  right  here. 

"  Praise  de  Lawd  !  "  cried  a  bent  old  woman,  with  a 
strong,  intelligent  face.  "  1  nebber  'spected  to  see 
Mars'  Edward's  little  gal." 

"  That  will  do."  Miss  Sherburne  turned  Dell  before 
her  and  entered  the  hall. 

There  was  an  eager  rush,  a  cloud  of  golden  hair  and 
two  outstretched  arms. 

"  We  are  all  here  !  We  thought  you  would  never  get 
back.  And  did  you  bring " 

"Dear  Aunt,"  said  a  pretty,  graceful  girl.  "Why 
P* ranees,  you  are  too  demonstrative,"  and  she  kissed 
the  traveler. 

A  stately,  imposing  woman  followed,  whose  train 
rustled  over  the  floor. 

"  Dear  Aunt  Aurelia,"  she  exclaimed,  "  how  tired  you 
look !  Girls  do  give  your  aunt  a  chance  to  enter  the 
room.  And  is  this — Edward's  child?  " 

They  reached  the  sitting-room  in  a  huddle.  Mrs. 
Beaumanoir  placed  her  aunt  in  a  chair,  and  hovered 
around.  The  elder  took  off  her  bonnet  and  mantle. 

"Yes,"  said  Miss  Sherburne  unwillingly.  "There 
seems  no  legal  reason  for  disbelieving  it.  This  is  your 
aunt  Beaumanoir,  Lyndell,  and  these  are  two  of  your 
cousins,  Violet  and  Frances.  You  will  find  her — well,  I 
am  tired  to  death  with  the  whole  thing !"  and  Miss 
Sherburne  seemed  to  relax  utterly.  Any  other  woman 
would  have  given  way  to  angry  tears. 

Dell  shrank  back.  Every  pulse  was  in  a  quiver  of 
indignation.  Their  manner  placed  her  outside  the  pale 


61 

of  welcome.  The  girls  looked  so  lovely  and  refined  in 
their  soft  white  dresses  and  flowing  ribbons,  the  elder  tall 
and  slim,  the  younger  a  golden-haired  fairy.  They  re- 
sembled the  rich  people  in  the  Park,  between  whom  and 
the  Hurrays  there  was  a  great  gulf. 

"Do  speak!"  Miss  Sherburne  shook  Dell  by  the 
arm.  "  I  am  tired  of  your  taciturnity.  Have  you  any 
intelligence  at  all  ?  Here,  Cassy,  take  her  hat.  Cato, 
the  trunk  goes  up  in  my  room.  Perhaps  we  had  all 
better  go,  now  that  I  have  found  my  breath.  The  air  is 
dry  and  dusty,  and  we  must  be  freshened  up  for  supper. 
Did  you  get  the  room  arranged,  Cassy  ?  " 

"  Yes'm,"  said  the  slim  mulatto  girl  who  had  gathered 
up  the  stray  articles. 

"Well,  Lyndell,  you  may  go  upstairs  with  her,  and  I 
will  come  in  a  moment  or  two  with  the  keys." 

"  You  may  run  up  if  you  want  to,  Frances,"  said  her 
mother. 

"It  is  too,  too  heartrending,"  began  Miss  Sherburne 
and  her  tremulous  voice  attested  her  sincerity.  "  If  we 
could  have  known  in  the  beginning  !  Yet  somehow  I 
only  half  believe  she  is  Edward's  child.  Of  course  they 
had  all  the  papers,  but  they  were  in  such  order  that  it 
seemed  almost  like  a  plot.  And  four  years  with  that 
Irish  tribe  !  " 

"  Were  they  any  connection  ?  " 

"O  no!  This  Maggie  Murray  came  over  in  the 
steamer  with  her,  and  they  took  her  to  Mr.  Murray's 
house.  I  would  give  every  dollar  I  possess  if  I  could 
plant  her  in  the  Murray  family  so  securely  that  she  might 
never  be  able  to  disown  that  parentage.  A  great  awk- 
ward creature,  ignorant,  disagreeable  in  the  extreme.  O 
my  dear  Laura,  I  shudder  to  think  of  the  trial  before  us 
all.  I  had  grown  to  almost  idolize  Edward's  memory, 
and  he  was  so  dear  to  me.  But  now — all  the  old  dis- 
pleasure returns." 


62  SHEBBUBNE  HOUSE. 

"You  are  tired  and  excited,"  said  her  niece  sym- 
pathetically. "After  you  have  had  a  cup  of  tea  you 
will  feel  stronger.  There,  I  shall  curb  my  impatience 
until  then." 

They  both  rose  and  walked  slowly  up  the  broad  stair- 
case. 

Frances  had  followed  Cassy  with  some  curiosity. 

They  crossed  a  large  roo,m  that  looked  delightfully 
cool  with  its  matted  floor,  white  curtains  and  bed,  and 
bamboo  furniture.  There  was  one  adjoining,  quite  as 
deep,  but  not  so  wide,  and  with  a  single  bed. 

"This  is  to  be  your  room  at  present,"  said  Cassy,  in 
a  soft  voice  that  sounded  very  grateful  to  Dell's  shaken 
nerves.  "  Are  you  dreadfully  tired?  " 

"  Yes,"  briefly. 

"  You  never  took  such  a  long  journey  before,  did 
you?"  asked  F ranees,  with  a  kind  of  pert  patronage. 

.  "  Yes,  when  we  came  to  America,  and  I  once  went  to 
Scotland  with  mamma." 

Frances  stared. 

"  I  am  going  abroad  in  a  year  or  so,"  she  continued 
presently,  with  a  toss  of  her  golden  head. 

Cassy  took  off  Dell's  dress,  bathed  her  face  in  some 
fragrant  water,  and  brushed  out  her  hair.  Then  Miss 
Sherburne  came  up — the  trunk  was  unstrapped  and  sev- 
eral dresses  taken  out.  Cassy  selected  a  plainly  made 
white  one. 

"  You  are  very  good,  thank  you,"  said  Dell  is  a  quiv- 
ering voice,  when  she  was  through. 

Frances  tittered  a  little,  and  Dell  flushed  scarlet. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  be  of  service  to  you,"  returned 
Cassy,  with  a  kind  of  rebuking  dignity  meant  for 
Frances  and  lost  upon  her. 

"Now  you  children  may  go  down  again,"  said  Miss 
Sherburne. 

"What  a  shocking  figure!"  cried  Mrs.  Beaumanoir. 


MUST  THIS  BE  HOME*  63 

"  She  looks  as  robust  as  a  German  field  hand's-offspring. 
If  Edward's  child  only  had  been  a  boy  !  " 

"  She  ought  to  be  !  And  how  is  one  ever  to  get  her 
trained  to  any  decent  behavior?  She  has  run  wild  with 
a  parcel  of  street  arabs.  You  never  saw  such  actions ! 
It  was  disgraceful ! 

"  Well,  you  can  send  her  to  school  to  tone  her  down. 
What  is  this  beauty  to  be  called  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  considering  that.  Her  name  is  Honora 
Lyndell.  I  shouldn't  want  to  use  her  mother's  name, 
and  Honora  always  does  have  an  Irish  sound  to  me. 
Lyndell  is  a  queer  name  for  a  girl,  and  it  is  your  mother's 
family  name — "  hesitatingly. 

"  It  has  a  style,  and  she  wants  something  to  balance 
that  ungainly  figure.  She  is  not  as  tall  as  Frances,  and 
would  make  two  of  her  in  breadth.  You  will  have  to 
starve  her  for  a  while." 

Gassy  was  busy  about  her  mistress,  but  the  ladies  did 
not  heed  her  presence  while  they  fully  discussed  the  un- 
welcome newcomer. 

Frances  Beaumanoir  had  led  her  cousin  downstairs 
again,  and  out  on  the  southern  veranda,  where  Violet 
stood  idly  glancing  over  the  lawn.  Then  she  paused 
abruptly. 

"We  don't  really  know  your  name,"  she  said. 

Dell  hesitated.  "  My  whole  name  is  Honora  Lyn- 
dell. But  I  have  always  been  called  Dell." 

"  Why,  that  is  short  and  pretty,"  said  Violet  turning. 

"  But  it  isn't  a  girl's  name,"  protested  Frances, 
rather  captiously.  "  It  was  grandmamma's  name.  Milli- 
cent  Lyndell — our  Milly  is  named  for  her,  and  she  has  a 
friend  called  Honor.  Are  you  really  English  ?  I 
thought  English  girls  were  slim.  And  oh,  my,  you  are 
not " 

"  Frances!  "  interposed  Violet. 

••  1   know  I  am  not  pretty."     Dell  was  struggling  with 


-64  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

tears  and  the  flush  of  mortification  that  made  her  face 
redder  than  before.  "  But  at  Mamma  Murray's  no  one 
cared." 

"  Did  you  have  to  call  her  mamma?  She  wasn't  your 
mother.  They  just  kept  you." 

"  They  kept  me  when  mamma  died.  They  loved  me. 
I  wish  I  could  have  stayed  with  them  always !  " 

"  But  they  were  Irish  !  " 

"  I  don't  care  if  they  were  !  "  cried  Dell  passionately. 
"  I  wish  I  had  been  their  very  own  child  and  I  should 
not  have  had  to  come  here.  I  hate  the  place !  I  al- 
ways shall !  I  would  not  stay  an  hour  if  I  could  help  it. 
And  when  I  get  to  be  a  woman  I  shall  go  away — go 
back  to  them  !  " 

Violet  had  been  taking  Dell's  points  in  a  rather  super- 
cilious manner.  She  was  shocked  at  the  outburst,  and 
said  :  "  That  will  do,  Fanny.  Don't  tease." 

"  But  you  have  a  horrid  temper,  hasn't  she,  Vi  ?  And 
the  idea  of  wanting  to  live  with  Irish  people  when  you 
could  come  to  Sherburne  House.  Were  they  so  very 
rich  and  elegant?  " 

"They  were — better  than  any  of  you,"  cried  Dell  de- 
fiantly ;  her  eyes  in  a  blaze. 

"  Fanny,  you  must  not  quarrel.  What  will  Aunt 
Sherburne  say  ?  " 

Dell  escaped  suddenly  from  her  tormentor,  flying  into 
the  sitting-room. 

"  O  Frances !    how  could  you  !  " 

"Must  she  really  be  our  cousin,  Vi  ?  I  think  she  is 
horrid!  And  her  hair  is  red,  redder,  reddish,  easily 
compared,  and  she  hasn't  a  bit  of  a  figure.  Must  she 
take  Sherburne  House  away  from  dear  Len  ?  It's 
shameful !  " 

The  supper  bell  rang.  The  ladies  came  downstairs. 
Dell  suddenly  brushed  away  her  tears,  but  her  eyes  told 
tales. 


MUST  THIS  BE  HOME?  65- 

"  I  wish  you  could  leave  off  crying  a  little  while,"  said 
Miss  Sherburne  complainingly.  "You  cannot  afford  to 
make  yourself  a  fright.  And  it  is  so  very  disagreeable 
for  those  about  you." 

Frances  looked  eagerly  at  Dell,  expecting  some  show 
of  temper,  but  she  simply  stood  silent,  her  face  settling 
into  rigid  lines. 

"  She  is  extremely  unpretty,"  the  child  thought.  Then 
she  studied  Violet's  clear  skin,  small,  dainty  mouth, 
graceful  turn  of  the  head,  and  she  knew  she  was  not  de- 
ficient in  personal  charms.  The  Sherburnes  had  always 
been  noted  for  pretty  women,  and  Milly  was  a  pro- 
nounced beauty.  Frances  had  always  heard  about  the 
Sherburne  good  looks. 

She  and  Dell  walked  down  one  side  of  the  table. 
Violet  opposite,  the  ladies  at  the  head  and  foot.  Miss 
Sherburne  asked  a  reverent  blessing.  She  had  taken 
the  head  of  the  family  in  all  things,  during  her  brother's 
illness. 

Lyndell  felt  strange  enough.  The  room  was  very 
huge,  wainscoted,  and  with  painted  walls  and  ceiling. 
At  one  side,  opposite  the  windows,  stood  a  massive  an- 
tique sideboard  in  old  mahogany,  with  no  end  of  carv- 
ing. At  one  end  a  very  handsome  pier  table,  and  at  the 
other  a  huge  fireplace,  ornamented  over  the  mantel  with 
branching  antlers,  ahd  queer  trophies.  There  was  a  row 
of  quaint  scriptural  tiling  set  about  the  jambs.  A  pair  of 
brass  andirons  crossed  each  other,  and  at  either  end  a 
great  jar  with  ferns  and  feathery  asparagus. 

At  the  south  side  were  three  deep  windows  with  dia- 
mond-shaped panes  of  glass,  and  inviting  recessed  seats. 
A  door,  half  sash,  opened  on  the  veranda.  The  fragrant 
air  swept  through,  sweet  with  jasmin,  and  honeysuckle, 
and  if  Dell  could  have  entered  the  room  under  any  other 
circumstances  she  would  have  stood  tranced  in  delight. 

They  all  fell  to  talking,  yet  she   realized  with  a  keen 


66  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

nervous  sense,  that  is  like  a  positive  pain,  the  stress 
of  these  unfriendly  eyes.  Fortunately  for  her,  Densie 
Murray  had  taught  her  children  to  behave  properly  at 
the  table.  She  neither  ate  with  her  knife  nor  tumbled 
over  her  glass  of  milk  nor  dropped  her  biscuit,  and 
she  certainly  was  at  home  with  a  napkin.  If  Violet's 
large  dark  eyes  had  not  so  persistently  studied  her ! 
The  girl  was  strenuously  objecting  to  a  great  disap- 
pointment. For  it  had  been  agreed — was  indeed  Mr. 
Sherburne's  plan — that  if  Edward's  child  should  die 
without  inheriting,  Sherburne  House  should  go  to 
Leonard  Beaumanoir,  he  taking  the  family  name, 
while  the  valuable  coal  and  iron  lands  should  be 
divided  between  Mrs.  Lepage  and  Mrs.  Stanwood. 
Violet  had  still  another  solution,  a  girl's  romantic  end- 
ing. If  this  unwelcome  cousin  should  have  to  come 
and  deprive  Leonard  of  what  was  almost  his  birth- 
right, might  he  not,  in  the  course  of  time,  marry  her 
and  thus  win  back  his  heritage?  But  this  coarse, 
blowsy,  sunburned  girl,  with  hair  of  curiously  faded 
streaks,  no  style,  no  figure,  no  charm  of  any  kind, 
dull  and  ignorant — oh,  why  must  she  come  to  spoil 
everything !  She  felt  that  she  should  never  be  able 
to  like  her.  And  Aunt  Sherburne  was  so  fond  of 
Leonard  ! 

A  young  colored  lad,  Julius  by  name,  waited  upon 
the  table.  There  was  a  little  general  talk  about  the 
journey  and  New  York  in  the  summer.  When  they 
all  rose,  Dell's  impulse  was  to  set  back  her  chair,  but 
the  creak  as  it  moved  on  the  polished  floor  startled 
her,  and  she  saw  Frances  walk  away  carelessly,  so  she 
followed. 

"  Frances,"  said  Mrs.  Beaumanoir,  "  you  may  take 
Lyndell  down  the  path  a  short  distance,  and  perhaps 
you  will  meet  papa." 

"  Violet,  you  come  with  us." 


MUST  THIS  BE  HOMEf  67 

Violet  shook  her  head  slowly.  There  were  some 
questions  she  wanted  to  ask. 

"  What  did  you  do  when  you  were  at  the  Murrays  ?  " 
queried  Frances. 

"  I  went  to  school,"  briefly. 

"  Did  you  study  French  and  music?" 

"  No — it  was  a  public  school." 

"  Why,  it  must  have  been  like  the  schools  for  the 
children  of  the  freedmen.  W7asn't  it  dreadful — with 
everybody  ?"  and  the  child  made  a  gesture  of  disgust. 

"  A  great  many  rich  children  went  to  our  school," 
said  Dell,  rather  pridefully. 

"  I  shouldn't  think  they  would.  We  have  a  govern- 
ess. I  suppose  you  will  have  one.  You  will  have 
so  many  things  to  learn,  you  know," — with  an  assump- 
tion of  authority. 

Dell  was  silent. 

"What  were  the  Murray  children  like?"  continued 
Frances. 

"  Like  other  children,"  said  Dell  shortly.  "Con 
was  a  big  boy,  and  Tessy  was  ten  months  younger 
than  I.  Then  they  went  on  down  to  the  baby." 

"  Con  ?     What  was  his  real  name?  " 

"  Constantine.  And  Tessy's  was  Teresa.  Then 
there  was  Jamsie  and  Morna,  and  the  others  were 
boys." 

"Were  they  very  Irish  ?  "  asked  Frances. 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean?"  Dell's  temper 
•vvns  rising.  "  Mr.  Murray  came  from  Ireland — but  1 
was  born  in  England,  and  I  nm  not  English." 

"Yes,  you  are.  Mamma  said  that  was  the  only  re- 
deeming feature." 

••I  am  an  American,"  Dell  said  decisively.  "And  so 
are  they." 

Then  she  glanced  over  the  wide  expanse,  the  clumps 
of  trees,  the  thickets  of  flowers,  the  winding  drive. 


68  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

"You  never  saw  anything  like  this?"  commenced 
Frances,  bent  on  extinguishing  the  interloper. 

"  Central  Park  is  handsomer.  We  used  to  go  down 
often,  always  on  Saturday.  \Ve  lived  very  near." 

"  Near  Central  Park  !  Why,  I  thought  only  rich  peo- 
ple could  live  there,"  and  Frances  opened  wide  her 
blue-grey  eyes.  "  Milly  spent  Easter  with  a  friend  she 
has  there.  And  it  was  elegant,  aristocratic." 

"Who  is  Milly?" 

"  Why,  my  sister.  She  is  a  very  handsome  young 
lady  and  was  introduced  at  Washington  last  winter. 
And  she  will  make  a  splendid  marriage.  I  wish  I  was 
old  enough  to  be  introduced." 

Dell  was  not  interested  in  such  matters.  She  was 
thinking  that  she  did  not  like  Frances.  Then  carriage 
wheels  crunched  along  the  path. 

"  O,  that's  my  papa  !  " 

"  Hillo!  "  cried  a  mellow  voice,  and  a  gentleman  sprang 
out.  "  Has  Aunt  Sherburne  come?  And  who  is  this ?" 

"  This  is — "   Frances  hesitated. 

"  I  am  Honora  Lyndell  Sherburne,"  the  child,  said 
stiffly.  Then  with  a  swelling  heart  she  added,  "  And  oh, 
I  wish  I  was  Dell  Murray  again." 

"And  she  would  like  to  go  back,"  declared  Frances. 

"That's  a  little  bit  of  homesickness,  you  know. 
When  you  really  get  used  to  Sherburne  you  will  begin 
to  appreciate  your  good  fortune.  And  you  are  really 
poor  Ned's  child  !  Well,  since  we  have  you  here,  we 
must  do  the  best  we  can  for  you." 

"  O,  I  wish  you  did  not  need  to  do  anything,"  cried 
Dell  passionately.  "  I  wish  you  could  take  it  back,  and 
I  need  not  have  to  live  here.  But  it  will  be  eight  years, 
papa  Murray  told  me 

"  Long  before  the  eight  years  have  come  and  gone 
we  shall  all  be  good  friends.  We  were  fond  of  your 
father.  Where  are  the  folks,  Fan?" 


MUST  THIS  BE  HOME?  69 

"  O,  up  at  the  house." 

He  put  one  arm  over  Dell's  shoulder,  but  she  un- 
graciously shook  it  off.  If  some  one  would  give  her  a 
word  of  welcome  ! 

They  went  up  the  wide  steps  of  the  veranda.  Dell 
remained  out  of  doors.  She  had  a  feeling  that  no  one 
wanted  her. 

Presently  Violet  came  out.  She  paused  beside  the 
hammock  and  stirred  it  idly. 

"  Did  you  ever  swing  in  a  hammock?"  she  asked. 

"Yes."  Dell  stood  up  very  straight.  "You  all  seem 
to  think  I  have  just  come  out  of  the  woods,"  she  said 
angrily. 

Violet  turned  away  and  left  her  alone. 

Inside  they  were  still  at  the  interminable  subject. 
Mr.  Beaumanoir  shook  hands  with  and  gently  kissed  Miss 
Sherburne. 

"You  must  be  tired  to  death,"  he  said,  "and  the 
carriage  is  here  to  take  all  of  us  home.  I  saw  our  new 
relative.  She  seems  stout  and  hearty,  and  I  hope  you 
will  get  on  comfortably.  Does  she  resemble  her 
father  ? ' ' 

"  She  is  an  utter  barbarian.  I  can't  imagine  a  more 
disagreeable  child  !  " 

"  With  an  abundance  of  temper,"  added  Violet. 

"  We  must  make  some  allowance  for  the  poor  strange 
thing.  But,  Aunt  Aurelia,  it  does  seem  hard  that  you 
should  have  to  shoulder  this  burthen.  What  can  we  do 
to  help?  Has  Whittingham  any  plans?  " 

"  He  will  be  here  to  supper  to-morrow  evening,  and 
wishes  to  see  you  and  settle  the  legal  matters.  You  and 
he  will  be  guardians.  Of  course,  distasteful  as  it  may 
be,  I  deem  it  my  duty  to  undertake  the  regular  care  of 
the  child.  This  is  my  home  as  well  as  hers.  She  has 
been  exposed  to  all  those  mischievous  radical  beliefs  that 
undermine  one's  respect  for  the  sanctity  of  the  home  of 


70  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

one's  ancestors,  and  the  truths  that  have  been  part  of  our 
lives,  obedience,  reverence,  and  regard  for  one's  elders. 
It  certainly  will  be  a  disheartening  task.  And  to  think 
of  Sherburne  House  going  into  such  hands! 

"  A  good  many  things  may  come  to  pass  in  the  space 
of  eight  years,"  said  Mr.  Beaumanoir  in  a  consolatory 
tone.  "  Of  course  we  are  all  disappointed  at  the  turn  of 
affairs,  it  would  be  useless  to  deny  it  ;  but  the  child's 
rights  are  an  established  fact,  and  we  all  have  enough 
reason  and  religion  to  make  the  best  of  it.  And  now, 
come,  put  on  your  wraps  and  let  us  return  home. 
Aunt  Sherburne  needs  a  good  night's  rest  as  much  as 
anything." 

There  was  a  little  commotion  of  getting  ready.  They 
gave  Dell  a  good-night  as  she  stood  quite  by  herself  on 
the  porch. 

Then  they  drove  away,  and  Miss  Sherburne  said  in  a 
rather  rasped  and  fretful  tone  : 

"  Cassy,  you  may  take  Miss  Lyndell  upstairs  to  bed." 

The  roorrl  was  pretty  and  sweet  with  dewy  fragrances, 
but  in  all  the  wide  world  there  was  not  a  more  miserable 
little  girl  than  the  heiress  of  Sherburne  House ! 


CHAPTER  VI. 

NOT    QUITE    A   BARBARIAN. 

Miss  SHERBURNE'S  grievances  grew  larger  with  the 
brooding  she  gave  them.  She  was  physically  tired,  her 
nerves  were  strained  to  their  utmost  tension.  The  disap- 
pointment had  not  so  utterly  appalled  her  until  she  real- 
ized that  her  nephew's  heir  was  really  here,  hedged 
about  with  the  protection  of  the  law  on  every  hand,  and 
she  belonged  to  a  law-abiding  race.  But  it  was  bitter  to 
see  this  utter  stranger  come  in  and  carry  off  the  old  fam- 
ily honors,  perhaps  marry  foolishly  and  dissipate  the 
fine  old  estate  that  had  descended  in  a  straight  line  for 
nearly  two  centuries. 

She  arose  in  the  morning  unrefreshed.  There  were  so 
many  things  awaiting  her  attention.  Of  course  nothing 
could  have  gone  on  quite  right  without  her  at  the  head. 

When  Dell  opened  her  eyes  the  sun  was  shining 
brightly,  and  oh,  how  the  birds  sang  !  Where  was  she? 
She  glanced  around  the  pretty  room  with  its  cool  blue 
and  white  furnishing,  and  the  shadowy  grey-green  light 
sifted  in  through  the  vines.  It  seemed  a  sort  of  fairy- 
land, and  it  was  some  minutes  before  she  could  remem- 
ber the  transformation. 

Presently  there  was  A  light  tap  at  the  door,  and  Cassy 
entered. 

"  Am  I  very  late  ?  "  the  child  asked. 

"  Oh,  no  ;  "  and  Cassy  gave  a  reassuring  if  rather  se- 
rious smile,  as  she  began  toilette  preparations. 

"  I  am  used  to  dressing  myself,"  she  began. 

71 


72  SHERBUENE  HOUSE. 

"  I  always  wait  on  the  young  ladies  when  they  are 
here.  Miss  Sherburne  prefers  it." 

Dell  made  no  further  demur.  Cassy  was  so  deft  and 
gentle  that  it  was  a  pleasure  to  have  her  ministrations. 
She  selected  one  of  the  new  ginghams,  and  found  a 
white  apron.  Just  then  there  was  a  step  in  the  adjoining 
room. 

"  I  hope  you  will  soon  feel  at  home,  Miss  Dell,"  she 
said  in  a  low  tone,  but  the  sympathy  kindled  a  quick, 
grateful  smile.  And  now  Cassy  remarked  that  Dell's 
eyes  were  lovely  in  the  dewy  freshness  of  restful  slum- 
ber. The  red  and  swollen  appearance  had  gone  out  of 
her  face  and  her  skin  was  soft  and  fine.  Neither  was 
she  rude  nor  awkward  in  her  movements. 

"Good-morning,"  Miss  Sherburne  said,  "  I  shall  ex- 
pect you  always  to  come  and  bid  me  good-morning." 

"  We  always  did  at  Mamma  Murray's,"  Dell  began  to 
explain,  when  she  was  interrupted  peremptorily. 

"  I  do  not  wish  you  to  use  any  such  term.  Mrs.  Mur- 
ray never  was  your  mother  in  any  sense.  For  the  future 
speak  of  her  by  her  proper  name.  It  is  my  desire  to 
have  you  trained  in  a  mode  of  behavior  suitable  to  your 
station,  and  to  begin  immediately." 

Dell's  face  was  one  scarlet  protest.  "  She  was  the 
dearest  of  mothers  to  me,"  she  said  with  a  swelling  heart. 

"  I  will  have  no  impertinent  rejoinders.  And  you  may 
as  well  understand  in  the  beginning,  that  you  are  to  blot 
out  the  past  four  years,  as  if  they  had  never  been." 

Dell  was  trembling  with  resentment  and  cast  her  eyes 
down  on  the  floor. 

"  Can  you  not  answer?  I  am* not  used  to  such  boor- 
ishness." 

"  I — I — "  and  the  child's  eyes  overflowed  with  tears. 

"There,  you  have  cried  enough  in  the  last  few  days 
to  set  any  one  wild.  I  have  no  patience  with  such 
tears.  You  ought  to  rejoice  that  God  has  been  good 


NO T  QUITE  A    BARBARIAN.  73 

enough  to  rescue  you  from  that  poverty-stricken  life  and 
vulgar  surroundings,  and  place  you  in  your  present 
position.  I  object  to  being  treated  to  continual  showers 
of  tears."' 

Miss  Sherburne  walked  down  the  wide  stairs  with  a 
stately  step,  and  Dell  followed,  crowding  down  her 
emotions,  and  setting  her  lips  firmly.  There  was  a 
brief  prayer  service  in  a  small  office  room,  and  the 
house  servants  came  in,  casting  curious  glances  at  Dell. 
Afterward,  as  they  were  about  to  disperse,  she  announced 
stiffly  : 

"  This  is  my  grand  niece,  Miss  Lyndell  Sherburne." 

Then  they  went  out  to  breakfast,  which  was  laid  on  a 
small  round  table  between  two  of  the  windows.  Julius 
waited  upon  them.  Dell  was  really  too  frightened  to  eat, 
but  fortunately  committed  no  gaucheries. 

Afterward  Miss  Sherburne  stood  debating  in  a  most 
impatient  manner.  She  was  so  accustomed  to  go  about 
her  own  affairs  without  having  any  one  to  consider. 
There  was  the  house  to  look  over,  accounts  to  make  up, 
the  servants  to  put  back  in  their  places.  It  was  one  of 
the  articles  of  her  belief  that  every  person  in  an  inferior 
position  took  advantage  of  the  least  relaxation  of  au- 
thority. But  what  was  to  be  done  with  Dell?  She  could 
not  turn  her  loose  in  the  library  ;  she  did  not  want  her 
meddling  or  rambling  about. 

"  You  may  go  and  sit  on  the  veranda,"  she  said.  "  I 
shall  be  busy  awhile.  In  a  day  or  two  we  will  have 
some  plans  and  studies.  You  know  nothing  of  music,  of 
course  ? "  * 

"  No,"  answered  Dell  quietly. 

She  went  out  on  the  porch,  and  presently  settled  her- 
self in  the  hammock.  Oh,  what  a  riotous  tangle  of  vines 
and  flowers !  Through  one  space  she  could  see  a  tiny 
sumrnerhouse  covered  with  morning-glories  of  every 
tint.  She  had  a  wild  impulse  to  run  down  there,  then 


74  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

she  thought  Miss  Sherburne  might  be  displeased.  Over 
yonder  was  a  thicket  of  roses.  She  drew  long,  throb- 
bing breaths  of  pure  delight.  Was  this  really  to  be  hers 
some  day  !  Oh,  if  she  might  have  Tessy  and  Con  ! 
She  could  imagine  some  of  the  little  arms  clinging  arouiui 
her  neck. 

The  birds  came  and  sung  to  her,  peering  through  the 
vines  with  black  beady  eyes.  A  scarlet  tanager  made  a 
swift  dazzle  in  the  sunshine.  Squirrels  tan  up  and  down 
the  great  oak  trees.  Oh,  how  unutterably  lovely  every- 
thing was!  A  new  passion  stirred  within  Dell's  soul 
with  an  intense  pang  that  she  was  too  young  to  translate, 
a  vague,  formless,  clinging  to  the  sense  of  beauty  as  if  it 
were  endowed  with  a  human  soul.  The  tears  rushed  to 
her  eyes. 

About  an  hour  later  Cassy  came  out  with  a  sun  hat, 
and  said : 

11  Miss  Dell,  your  aunt  sends  you  permission  to  take  a 
walk." 

Dell  glanced  curiously  at  the  beautiful  chip  hat  with  its 
wreath  of  flowers,  finer  than  her  Sunday  hat  at  home. 
Ah,  how  the  homelikeness  and  motherliness  of  the  Mur- 
rays  would  always  cling  to  her. 

"  I  should  like  to  go  and  see  the  morning-glories,"  she 
said,  putting  on  the  hat. 

They  walked  about  the  lawn,  that  seemed  enclosed  in  a 
park,  and  the  park  bounded  by  thickets  of  dense  shrub- 
bery like  a  wall. 

"  Where  is  the  street?"  she  asked  presently. 

Cassy  smiled.  "  We  do  not  have  streets  here.  We 
are  at  least  half  a  mile  from  the  road.  And  Beaumanoir 
is  two  miles  distant." 

"  What  is  on  that  side  ?  " 

"The  estate  goes  on  a  mile  to  a  crossroad.  It  is  a 
good  deal  wild  land.  Over  beyond  is  a  railroad  station 
and  a  litrle  settlement." 


SOT  QUITE  A    BARB  ARIA  W.  75 

It  seemed  to  Dell  as  if  it  might  be  the  end  of  the  world. 
Siie  felt  so  away  from  everything. 

"  Isn't  it  very  lonely  ?  "  she  asked  presently.  "I  like 
people." 

"The  children  are  over  here  nearly  every  day.  And 
the  Lepages  and  the  Stanwoods  come  for  long  visits." 

"  I  don't  think  they  will  like  me,"  Dell  said,  after  a 
meditative  silence. 

"  Why?  "  asked  Cassy  curiously,  though  she  knew  of 
some  forceful  reasons. 

"1  cannot  quite  explain,"  and  Dell's  brow  was  knit  in 
perplexity.  "  They  do  not  want  me  here.  Did  you  ever 
feel  something  all  through  you,  like  a  hurt  nerve,  when 
some  people  come  near  you  ?  " 

"  You  will  get  over  the  strangeness.  And  they  are  all 
your  cousins.  Where  did  you  live  in  New  York?" 

Dell  told  her,  indeed  grew  quite  descriptive  of  the  home 
and  school  life. 

"  I  was  up  one  winter  two  years  ago  with  Mrs.  Lepage 
— she  was  not  very  well  and  wanted  some  treatment.  We 
were  at  a  hotel.  I  could  have  remained.  A  lady  wanted 
me  very  much  for  her  daughter's  maid." 

"  Are  you  Miss  Sherburne's  maid?" 

"  Well — yes.  I  have  been  here  ever  since  I  was  a  little 
girl.  It  seems  like  home." 

"  I  should  have  stayed,"  returned  Dell  decisively. 

Cassy  smiled  softly,  guessing  the  connection. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  my  own  papa?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  was  about  nine  when  he  went  away.  I 
used  to  play  with  and  amuse  the  babies.  Then  Miss 
Julia  took  me  and  taught  me  a  great  many  things.  The 
major  went  to  Alaska  on  some  business  for  the  govern- 
ment, and  I  came  back.  Miss  Stierburne  is  particular, 
but  she  isn't  a  hard  mistress." 

"  Hut — about  my  own  papa — were  they  all  very  angry 
at  his  marriage  ?  " 


76  SHEEBURNE  HOUSE. 

"I  think  we  had  better  not  discuss  that,  Miss  Dell. 
They  were  all  extravagantly  fond  of  him.  He  had  been 
like  an  own  child  to  Miss  Sherburne,  his  mother  died 
when  he  was  so  young.  He  was  handsome  and  charm- 
ing, then  he  was  the  only  son,  and  his  grandfather  had 
made  him  the  heir  of  Sherburne  House." 

"  I  wish  he  had  not.    Then  I  need  not  have  come  here." 

"  But  surely ' 

"  I  shall  go  away  as  soon  as  I  am  a  woman.  Eight 
years,  papa  Murray  said.  But  it  is  a  long  while,"  and 
Dell  sighed. 

Cassy  felt  rather  restricted  in  subjects  of  conversation. 
Miss  Sherburne  had  said  : 

"  Do  not  allow  her  to  discuss  the  Murrays  or  her  past 
life  with  you.  I  wish  her  to  forget  those  Irish  barbarians 
as  soon  as  possible.  And  we  know  nothing  praiseworthy 
about  her  mother." 

Experience  had  taught  her  to  be  very  careful  before 
"little  pitchers."  Indeed  it  was  her  discretion  that 
rendered  her  so  valuable  to  Miss  Sherburne,  since  there 
was  always  so  much  coming  and  going.  And  it  must  be 
admitted  that  she  had  imbibed  the  family  feeling  that  this 
child  was  out  of  the  pale  of  really  legitimate  family  in- 
heritance, even  if  the  law  gave  it  to  her.  Yet  she  began 
to  almost  pity  Dell  that  she  would  be  so  far  from  rivalling 
her  cousins  in  good  looks. 

For  Cassy  understood  the  value  of  beauty.  Even  she 
had  much  to  be  proud  of.  Tall,  well-formed,  supple, 
not  so  dark  but  that  the  pink  glowed  in  her  cheeks, 
glossy  rippling  black  hair,  straight,  clearly  cut  features, 
she  held  herself  royally  above  many  of  her  fellows  in 
the  quarters.  Then  she  was  one  of  the  few  who  had 
been  born  on  the  Sherburne  estates.  Old  great-grand- 
father Sherburne  had  been  wiser  than  many  of  his  neigh- 
bors, and  in  the  early  days  of  the  slavery  agitation  had 
sold  most  of  his  slaves  to  go  further  South,  where  they 


NOT  QUITE  A   BARBARIAN.  77 

were  more  secure  ;  hiring  afterward  large  numbers,  at 
their  owner's  risks. 

Yet  now  that  Cassy  came  to  inspect  Dell  closely,  in 
one  of  her  natural  moods,  she  seemed  to  give  promise  of 
amendment.  Her  eyes  were  fine,  her  lashes  of  glitter- 
ing bronze  that  made  a  curious  dazzle.  Her  mouth  was 
not  of  the  rosebud  order,  but  the  lips  were  finely  formed, 
and  of  the  magnificent  red  that  betokens  perfect  health. 
When  her  complexion  came  to  be  cared  for,  her  hands 
properly  treated,  her  figure  kept  within  bounds,  she 
might  not  be  so  bad.  And  she  certainly  had  a  bright 
vein  of  humor  ;  she  was  far  from  being  as  ignorant  as 
Miss  Sherburne  feared. 

Miss  Sherburne  was  not  through  with  her  multitudinous 
cares  when  they  returned.  She  was  a  very  thorough 
housekeeper  and  a  most  efficient  manager,  and  would 
not  have  brought  other  than  southern  training  into  dis- 
credit. Then  there  was  dinner,  and  the  mistress  felt  the 
absolute  need  of  a  siesta  to  enable  her  to  go  through 
with  the  demands  of  the  evening. 

So  Dell  read  and  swung  in  the  hammock  until  mid- 
afternoon.  Then  Cassy  brushed  her  hair  again  and  at- 
tired her  in  a  delicate  cambric.  She  took  her  seat  on  the 
veranda  with  Miss  Sherburne. 

"I  have  been  too  busy  to  attend  to  you  to-day,"  the 
lady  began,  "and  I  have  not  considered  any  plans  for 
your  education.  The  free  schools  at  the  North  are  my 
utter  abomination  ;  I  suppose  you  know  next  to  nothing." 

Dell  flushed  and  a  fire  lighted  up  the  velvet  eyes. 

"  I  do  know,  a  good  deal,"  she  answered  vehemently, 
"  I  would  have  been  in  the  graduating  class " 

"  I  am  not  asking  your  opinion  of  your  attainments," 
was  the  severe  reply.  "  It  might  have  answered  for  the 
position  you  were  in,  but  your  whole  life  has  changed, 
and  you  must  be  fitted  for  it." 

Miss  Sherburne  looked  very  stately  and  impressive  in 


78  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

her  delicate  black  and  white  lawn,  with  fine  thread  lace 
at  neck  and  wrist.  She  had  settled  herself  with  a  tiny 
basket  and  took  thereform  a  strip  of  antique  lace  that 
was  one  of  her  diversions. 

"  You  may  read  aloud  to  me,"  she  said. 

Dell  had  been  esteemed  an  excellent  reader  at  school 
and  was  frequently  selected  for  declamation.  She  had  a 
natural  perception  of  emphasis,  a  clear  voice,  and  fine 
enunciation. 

"There,  there,"  interrupted  the  lady  ;  "not  quite  so 
theatrical  if  you  please." 

Dell  stopped  suddenly  and  flushed  to  the  edges  of  her 
hair. 

"That  may  do  for  the  public  school,  but  it  sounds  as 
if  you  were  haranguing  a  mob.  It  is  enough  to  set  one 
wild  !  What  studies  did  you  pursue  ?  " 

Dell  mentioned  a  goodly  list.  Miss  Sherburne  felt 
suddenly  out  of  her  depth,  and  she  could  not  afford  to 
blunder. 

"  You  did  not  study  languages  or  music?  " 

"We  wrote  music  and  sang  by  note.  And  we  had 
industrial  drawing " 

"  Well,  you  will  not  need  that,"  impressively.  "  And 
you  know  nothing  about  the  piano?  " 

"We  did  not  have  one  at  the  Murrays — "  then  Dell 
paused,  startled  at  her  forgetfulness. 

"You  have  two  bad  habits,  insolence  and  disobedi- 
ence." 

Dell  drew  her  lips  together  with  an  angry  emphasis. 
She  could  not  forget  her  dearest  friends,  she  would  not 
if  a  hundred  Miss  Sherburnes  commanded  it. 

Ah,  how  the  birds  sang  !  The  bees  droned,  the  soft 
wind  rustled  through  the  branches,  the  insects  were 
chirping  in  their  leafy  coverts.  Ah,  if  she  could  fly,  or 
skim  about  in  the  sleepy  sunshine,  or  hide  herself  in 
the  grey-green  nooks  of  fragrance. 


NOT  QUITE  A    BARBARIAN.  79 

"  And  you  know  nothing  of  needlework,  I  dare  say  ?  " 
in  a  dry  tone.  "  When  1  was  your  age  I  could  do  any- 
thing with  my  needle." 

"  I  can  sew  on  the  machine  and  crochet " 

Miss  Sherburne  sighed.  Then  the  Beaumanoir  car- 
riage drove  around  with  the  three  younger  children  and 
their  mamma.  They  all  came  to  kiss  Aunt  Sherburne. 
How  could  they  !  Dell  felt  like  screaming  at  the  very 
thought.  They  spoke  to  her  with  a  certain  hauteur, 
which  was  after  all  lost  upon  Dell. 

"  Cassy,  you  may  take  charge  of  the  children,"  said 
Mrs.  Beaumanoir. 

"And  we  will  play  croquet,"  cried  Frances — "but 
may  be  you  do  not  know  how  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes,  indeed,"  answered  Dell  eagerly. 

Cecil  fell  to  Dell  in  the  choice  of  partners  :  that  is, 
Frances  chose  and  Dell  took  what  was  left.  Cecil  was 
seven,  quite  tall  and  very  fair,  in  a  sailor  suit,  and  had 
only  recently  discarded  kilts  and  golden  ringlets.  A 
curly  crop  still  covered  his  head  and  reminded  her  of 
Morna.  Ned  was  rather  consequential,  in  a  most  im- 
maculate boyish  toilette.  He  had  dark  eyes  and  quite 
dark  brown  hair  and  was  a  little  past  ten. 

Cassy  found  the  box  of  balls  and  mallets,  and  the 
ground  was  around  at  the  southern  end. 

"How  much  do  you  know  about  croquet?"  asked 
Ned  rather  insolently. 

"  All  there  is  to  know,"  retorted  Dell. 

"  Well — look  out  for  yourself,  that's  my  warning." 

But  he  soon  found  it  was  not  needed.  Her  manner  of 
handling  the  mallet  and  her  strokes  established  her  skill 
at  once. 

"  Why,  it  will  be  no  fun  at  all.  You'll  go  straight 
through,"  he  cried  rather  vexed. 

"You  don't  play  quite  fair,"  declared  Fanny,  cha- 
grined at  such  an  able  adversary. 


80  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

"  What  have  I  done  out  of  rule?  "  Dell  asked,  stand- 
ing up  defiantly. 

"  Well — you  do  not  play  quite  as  we  do — "  evasively. 

"  Then  tell  me  just  how." 

Dell's  last  stroke  took  her  out,  and  Cecil  was  quite  a 
wise  little  player.  The  others  dared  her  to  a  second 
game.  Ned  was  very  watchful  and  Frances  did  her 
best,  but  they  were  still  on  the  losing  side. 

"  Well,  you  are  older,  and  you  have  played  a  good 
deal,  you  ought  to  beat.  But  you  just  wait  until  Vi 
plays  you  some  day.  You'll  be  beaten  out  of  your 
boots." 

Dell  laughed  rather  joyously. 

"Tell  you  what.  I'll  run  you  a  race.  Down  there 
to  the  old  sycamore." 

"  Done,"  said  Dell. 

Frances  was  the  time-keeper.  One,  two,  and  off 
started  Ned.  Three !  Dell  closed  her  lips  firmly. 
He  ran  swiftly,  but  she  came  in  first. 

"And  you  did  not  start  honest,"  she  said  breath- 
lessly. 

He  laughed  unpleasantly.  "  My,  but  you're  an  awful 
tomboy  !  "  he  said. 

"And  you've  made  a  guy  of  yourself!  You  are 
awfully  red  in  the  face,"  declared  Frances  with  an  air 
that  suggested  Miss  Sherburne. 

Dell  fanned  herself  vigorously  with  the  skirt  of  her 
dress.  Ned  sauntered  around  rather  out  of  humor. 

"  Tell  you  what.     I'll  play  you  a  game  of  checkers." 

"  I  do  not  know  how." 

"  Oh,  stay  and  play  croquet,"  pleaded  Cecil. 

"I  will  play  with  you,"  said  Cassy.  "And  you 
know  you  won  the  game  last  time  we  played." 

Cecil  was  delighted.  The  others  marched  off.  Ned 
went  in  for  the  board,  and  Frances  sauntered  upstairs  to 
find  the  elders. 


NOT  QUITE  A    BARBARIAN.  81 

Dell  soon  mastered  the  main  idea  of  the  game,  for  she 
was  very  quick.  Then  they  began  to  play.  Of  course, 
Ned  had  every  advantage  and  played  up  to  it.  He 
soon  had  her  penned. 

Dell  bore  the  defeat  pleasantly.  The  game  interested 
her  and  she  really  desired  to  learn.  But  there  was  a 
sort  of  selfish  triumph  about  Ned  that  stirred  her  to  a 
kind  of  contempt.  She  was  so  generous  herself.  He 
did  not  mean  his  pupil  to  progress  very  rapidly,  but  she 
watched  his  moves  closely. 

Mr.  Beatimanoir  came  up  the  path  with  his  wide- 
brimmed  panatna  in  his  hand.  He  had  a  very  fair  look 
at  Dell,  and  there  was  something  in  her  eagerness  that 
interested  him. 

"Not  a  bad  face  after  all,"  he  said  to  himself.  "I 
do  wonder  what  her  mother  was  like."  Then  as  he 
neared  them  he  surveyed  the  players. 

"  Edward,  my  son,"  he  said  gravely,  "  I  do  not  think 
you  are  quite  fair.  Has  your  cousin  played  much  ?  " 

"  I  am  just  learning,"  explained  Dell,  glancing  up, 
moved  by  the  kindly  tone.  And  she  found  a  very 
friendly  expression  in  the  face. 

"  Cousin  !  "  exclaimed  Ned  superciliously. 

"  Is  she  not  your  cousin,  your  uncle  Edward's  daugh- 
ter? There,  you  have  stopped  her  from  playing  ;  now 
let  me  take  your  place.  My  opinion  is  that  you  make  a 
very  poor  teacher." 

Edward  relinquished  his  place  unwillingly.  Dell's 
heart  beat  with  a  sudden  delight,  and  she  glanced  up 
smilingly.  He  could  not  forgive  her  all  at  once  for 
standing  in  the  place  he  coveted  for  his  firstborn,  but  he 
returned  her  look  with  a  certain  kindliness. 

"  Did  you  give  her  the  first  game,  Ned?  " 

"  I  showed  her  all  the  moves,"  rather  ungraciously. 

"  That  is  not  quite  enough.  Now,"  to  Dell,  "  I  will 
explain  as  we  go  along."  And  he  did  it  very  thor- 


82  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

oughly ;  so  well,  indeed,  that  she  went  on  trium- 
phantly. 

"Though  I  did  not  really  win  the  game,"  admitted 
Dell  honestly. 

"  Of  course  you  didn't !  It  was  a  clear  give  away  on 
papa's  part.  Well,  I  beat  her  seven  times." 

"That  is  not  stating  it  correctly.  You  won  seven 
games  from  an  opponent  who  knew  nothing  about  play- 
ing. Not  a  very  gallant  exploit,  Master  Ned." 

Edward  bit  his  lip. 

"  Now  I  am  going  to  show  you  some  of  the  holes  the 
unwary  fall  into.  Keep  your  eyes  open." 

He  did  this  very  amusingly.  Then  they  -played  an 
earnest  game.  Dell  was  beaten,  of  course,  but  by  a 
very  little. 

"And  there  was  one  time  I  thought  you  would  surely 
pen  me."  He  placed  the  men  back  on  the  board  and 
explained  it  to  her. 

"  Oh,  and  I  never  saw  it.  I  am  very  much  obliged  to 
you  for  the  instruction,"  she  cried  gratefully. 

The  ladies  were  coming  out. 

"  Now  a  game  with  me,"  insisted  Ned. 

"  I  do  not  want  to  play  any  more,  but  just  think  it 
over,"  she  answered. 

"  Well,  you  are  very  mean,  after  all  the  trouble  papa 
took,"  the  boy  said  crossly. 

Lyndell  rose  and  turned  her  glance  haughtily  upon  him. 

Mr.  Whittingham  came  trotting  up  the  avenue  on 
his  pretty  chestnut  mare.  Dell  caught  his  smile. 
Somehow  she  felt  comparatively  light-hearted,  and 
here  was  the  face  of  an  old  friend  in  these  desert 
wastes.  She  ran  down  the  steps  and  held  out  her 
"hand  as  he  dismounted. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you  so  cheerful  and  so  much  at 
home,"  he  said,  with  a  grave,  pleasant  smile.  "I 
hoped  I  should  find  you  quite  content." 


NOT  QUITE  A    BARBARIAN.  SJ 

Dell  would  not  mar  his  pleasure.  Perhaps  it  might  be 
better  than  she  had  feared. 

"  Lyndell !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Sherburne,  summoning 
her  by  a  gesture  as  the  two  men  were  greeting  each 
other.  It  would  have  been  difficult  to  disentangle  the 
mixed  sensations  that  suddenly  stirred  in  her  soul,  but 
she  gave  it  the  term  of  propriety. 

"  I  am  ashamed  of  such  forwardness,"  she  said  with 
unnecessary  sharpness.  "  You  might  have  waited  until 
Mr.  Whittingham  fairly  touched  the  ground  before  you 
made  such  an  indelicate  rush  at  him." 

Dell's  face  was  scarlet.  The  glow  of  pleasure  fadrd 
into  lowering  clouds.  She  hated  them  all  in  the  next 
breath. 

There  was  a  pleasant  confusion.  Mrs.  Beaumanoit 
was  very  elegant  and  gracious.  She  was  extremely  fine- 
looking,  rather  haughty.  Mr.  Beaumanoir  was  a  large, 
portly  man,  with  a  rather  humorous  face,  a  flowing 
brown  beard  with  silvery  streaks,  and  a  thin  spot  on  the 
top  of  his  curly  head. 

In  the  midst  of  the  talk  supper  was  announced. 
They  all  filed  into  the  handsome  old  room,  and  Julius 
seated  them  and  began  the  serving.  No  one  seemed 
to  notice  Dell.  The  gentlemen  were  discussing  some 
county  matters,  the  ladies  spoke  of  several  of  their 
distant  neighbors,  of  some  plans  for  summering.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Lepage  and  their  younger  children  were 
abroad  ;  Major  and  Mrs.  Stanwood  in  Canada.  Ned 
and  Frances  squabbled  a  little  until  their  mother  had  to 
speak  to  them. 

Afterward  the  gentlemen  retired  to  the  sitting-room. 
Cecil  begged  Dell  to  swing  him  in  the  hammock. 

"She  is  going  to  have  a  game  of  checkers  with  me," 
declared  Ned. 

Some  spirit  of  malevolence  stirred  Frances.  "  I'll 
swing  you,"  she  said. 


84  SHEBBURNE  HOUSE. 

"  I  do  not  want  to  play,"  returned  Dell. 

"  But  you  ought  to  give  me  one  more  chance.  It  is 
very  mean  of  you." 

"  I  cannot  play  any  more  to-night,"  Dell  said  im- 
patiently. 

"Can't  she,  Aunt  Sherburne?"  Ned  appealed  as 
that  lady  came  to  the  window.  "I've  been  showing  her 
half  the  afternoon,  and  now  she  won't  play  even  one 
game  with  me." 

"  If  you  must  be  disagreeable  you  can  go  up  to  your 
room,"  said  Miss  Sherburne,  with  quiet  decision. 

Perhaps  she  did  not  mean  to  be  taken  quite  so  literally. 
Dell  rose,  and  with  a  quick  sweep  vanished  in  the  hall. 
She  was  very  angry.  It  seemed  to  her  that  Ned  was 
unfair,  ungenerous,  mean,  she  should  say  if  she  was 
back  with  Con  Murray.  Con  would  thrash  such  a  muff! 

Then  she  bowed  her  head  in  her  hands  and  cried  bit- 
terly. Oh,  for  some  clasp  of  fond  arms,  some  kisses 
from  warm  and  loving  lips. 

When  Miss  Sherburne  came  up,  after  all  matters  were 
settled  that  could  be  decided  upon  at  present,  she  found 
Dell  soundly  asleep.  And  she  sighed  as  she  thought  of 
the  future. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

STANDING    UP   TO   THE    MARK. 

Miss  SHERBURNE  was  too  much  engrossed  with  busi- 
ness the  next  morning  to  feel  like  undertaking  arguments 
of  any  kind  with  Dell.  She  did  not  even  speak  of  the 
occurrence  of  the  previous  evening.  She  had  promised 
to  be  early  at  Beaumanoir  and  was  to  accompany  the 
two  executors  to  the  surrogate's  office  in  the  county  town. 
So  she  merely  placed  Dell  in  Cassy's  charge. 

Dell's  spirits  rose  as  if  a  wintry  cloud  had  been  lifted 
from  them.  She  swung  in  the  hammock,  she  sat  in 
the  sunshine  and  read.  Then  she  espied  the  interior  of 
the  office,  the  room  where  interviews  with  the  work  peo- 
ple and  overseers  were  held,  contracts  drawn  and  signed, 
and  business  papers  kept  in  the  safe. 

The  table  had  some  odds  and  ends  of  papers.  There 
was  also  pen  and  ink.  A  sudden  thought  flashed  in 
Dell's  mind.  It  would  be  a  good  time  to  write  her 
letter. 

She  went  directly  in  and  found  some  loose  sheets  of 
note  paper  and  envelopes.  She  directed  one  to  Miss 
Tessy  Murray,  and  then  began.  Oh,  how  many  things 
she  had  to  say,  some  of  them  bitter  enough,  but  the 
principal  object  of  her  wrath  was  Miss  Sherburne. 
When  she  came  to  the  love  and  longing  for  her  old 
friends,  her  eyes  filled  with  tears  and  she  laid  her  head 
down  on  the  table  and  cried.  She  was  so  wretched  and 
lonely. 

However,  she  presently  recovered  and  finished  the 
second  sheet  of  paper,  placed  it  in  the  envelope  and 

85 


86  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

sealed  it.  Then  she  searched  for  a  stamp,  and  found 
some  in  a  box  on  the  desk.  Suddenly  a  thought  that 
none  of  these  articles  were  really  hers,  startled  her. 

"  But  I  can  pay  her,"  she  said  triumphantly.  ••  I  will 
not  take  anything  of  hers  without  compensation." 

She  ran  upstairs  and  hunted  through  her  little  hoard  ol 
money.     Three  cents  for  a  stamp,  two  for  paper  and  en- 
velope.    She  went  to  the  office  and  laid    the    five-cent- 
piece  in  the  box  that  held  the  stamps. 

Just  now  a  misgiving  occurred  to  Dell.  Would  Miss 
Sherburne  allow  the  letter  to  go  without  knowing  its  con- 
tents? And  she  could  not,  must  not  see  them.  That 
she  would  not  be  allowed  to  write  at  all  did  not  at  this 
juncture  occur  to  Dell.  How  would  she  manage  to  send 
her  letter?  Was  there  any  place  nearer  than  Ardmore? 
Surely  she  could  not  walk  there  by  herself.  Well,  she 
would  watch  and  see  who  took  the  mail.  How  queer 
these  great  country  places  were  !  And  oh,  how  lone- 
some one  would  get!  It  seemed  to  Dell  at  that  moment 
as  if  she  could  fly  to  the  ends  of  the  world. 

She  went  up  to  her  own  room  again.  What  should 
she  do  with  her  letter?  There  was  her  bureau  with  ;ill 
its  drawers  in  nicest  order.  What  pretty  clothes  they 
were,  what  fine  handkerchiefs,  what  beautiful  aprons, 
stockings,  and  here  in  a  compartment  ribbons  for  her 
hair.  Her  heart  softened  toward  Miss  Sherburne. 

"  But  if  I  am  going  to  be  rich,  of  course  the  money  is 
mine.  She  doesn't  really  give  me  these  things." 

At  last  she  slipped  the  letter  in  the  Bible  that  Mamma 
Murray  had  given  her  last  Christmas,  and  suddenly 
pressed  it  to  her  lips  in  a  burst  of  emotion. 

Miss  Sherburne  did  not  reach  home  until  nearly  three. 
She  had  taken  luncheon  with  the  Beaumanoirs.  Curi- 
ously enough  she  had  dissented  from  the  plan  they  all 
favored  of  sending  Lyndell  away  to  school.  What  her 
objections  really  were  she  could  but  lamely  formulate. 


STANDING    UP  TO   THE  MARK.  87 

The  Sherburne  girls  had  governesses  and  there  was  one 
at  Beaumanoir,  but  Millicent  had  been  away  at  school 
for  two  years,  and  Violet  was  to  go  in  the  autumn. 

"It  is  my  duty  to  know  something  about  the  child's 
principles  and  morals,"  she  said  decisively.  "  She  has 
run  wild  long  enough." 

"  But  I  thought  a  boarding  school  soon  tamed  down 
the  most  unruly.  Then  there  are  convents,"  suggested 
Mr.  Beaumanoir. 

"  I  am  not  anxious  to  make  a  Romanist  of  her.  I  dare 
say  she  had  enough  of  that  at  the  Murrays.  I  never  in- 
quired," and  Miss  Sherburne  looked  startled. 

"Aunt  Aurelia,  I  have  an  idea,"  and  Mrs.  Beau- 
manoir glanced  at  the  sorely  troubled  face,  that  did  ap- 
peal to  her  sympathy.  "  Let  her  be  sent  over  here  every 
morning.  The  children's  lessons  are  from  nine  to  twelve 
these  warm  days  ;  Miss  Burtis  will  be  a  good  judge  of  her 
capabilities,  and  we  can  learn  how  amenable  she  is  to  rules 
and  influences." 

"Oh,  how  extremely  generous  of  you,  Laura,  knowing 
utterly  nothing  about  her!  "  and  the  tears  rushed  to  Miss 
Sherburne's  eyes. 

"  I  will  venture  to  predict  that  she  will  prove  a  quick 
scholar,"  said  Mr.  Beaumanoir. 

"  The  children  thought  her  hot-tempered " 

"  She  is  disrespectful,  insolent,  and  she  has  no  proper 
regard  for  her  position.  Her  tastes  seem  low  and  vulgar. 
Of  course  one  could  hardly  expect  anything  else  ;  "  and 
Miss  Sherburne  sighed.  "  But  one  might  reasonably 
look  for  some  evidence  of  good  birth.  She  has  it  on  one 
side,  if  she  really  be  Edward's  child." 

"  Mr.  Whittingham  thinks  there  can  be  no  doubt.  Of 
course,  Aunt  Aurelia,  it  is  a  bitter  disappointment,  but 
the  child  cannot  help  being  in  her  present  sphere,  and 
we  must  not  be  unjust  to  her,"  said  Mr.  Beaumanoir. 

Miss  Sherburne  came  home  quite  relieved.     She  an- 


88  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

nounced  the  arrangement  to  Dell,  and  the  remainder  of 
the  afternoon  was  busy  with  accounts  and  letters. 

Julius  brought  the  light  wagon  around  the  next  morn- 
ing. Dell  had  been  duly  informed  of  the  great  favor, 
and  given  instructions  as  to  her  behavior.  She  had  put 
her  precious  letter  in  her  pocket,  and  when  she  saw 
Julius  with  the  mail-bag  in  his  hand,  her  heart  gave  a 
great  bound.  She  could  hardly  wish  Miss  Sherburne 
good-morning  with  proper  decorum. 

"So  you  go  to  the  post  office?"  she  said,  after  they 
were  seated.  "  Where  is  it  ?  " 

"At  Ardmore,  Missy.  Allus  go  night  and  mornin', 
'less  Cato  hab  to  drive." 

"Then  you  may  take  my  letter,  too.  I  did  not  know 
— you  will  be  very  careful  not  to  forget  it?"  and  she 
glanced  up  anxiously. 

"Yes,  Missy.  Won't  forgit,  no  how.  Missus  bring  a 
hornet's  nest  'bout  my  ears  if  I  dun  go  and  forgit  any- 
thing. Julius  mighty  kerftil,  I  kin  fell  you,"  ar.d  he 
snapped  his  eyes  humorously. 

She  dropped  her  precious  missive  into  his  outstretched 
palm  with  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"  Hab  to  han'  dat  ar  in  sep'rate.  Missy  know  next 
time.  Missus  allus  lock  de  bag." 

Dell  nodded. 

"  How  you  like  it  here,  Missy  ?  We  all  tought  Mas'r 
Leonard  come  to  Sherbon'  House.  Ef  you  hadn't  bin 
foun',  or  bin  dead,  he  be  de  next  mas'r  shore  "nuff." 

"  I  wish  I  had  not  been  found,"  cried  Dell  sharply. 
"  No  one  wanted  me.  And  I  was  so  happy  and  content. 
Everybody  loved  me." 

Julius  stared  hard,  and  the  whites  of  his  eyes  glistened 
like  glass. 

"  Why,  Missy!  "  in  the  sheerest  surprise. 

"  I  wish  1  could  give  it  to  him  and  go  back  to  my  own 
dear  home." 


STANDING    UP   TO    THE  MARK,  H9 

"  Mas'r  Leonard  he  be  mighty  glad,"  and  Julius 
chuckled. 

If  the  heritage  was  really  hers,  why  should  they  be 
so  grudging  !  Not  one  word  of  real  welcome  had  been 
given  her.  By  sharp  contrast,  she  remembered  the 
Murray s'  love  and  kindness.  How  generous  for  them 
to  take  in  her  sick  mother,  to  give  her  shelter  when  she 
was  no  kin.  She  had  never  seen  any  selfishness  or  nar- 
rowness with  them.  Con  had  a  large  nature  ;  Densie,  a 
gentle  one.  They  were  always  trying  to  make  some  one 
happy.  In  this  atmosphere  of  loving,  hearty  interest, 
Dell's  soul  had  grown  large  and  true,  and  reasoned  with 
a  simple  directness. 

Julius  handed  her  out  with  great  politeness.  At  a  first 
glance  Beaumanoir  looked  much  like  Sherburne  House, 
except  that  it  was  not  so  imposing,  and  the  lawn  dis- 
played a  greater  diversity  of  bloom.  Violet  stood  on 
the  wide  veranda. 

"  Oh,  good-morning,"  she  said,  in  a  soft,  lady-like 
voice.  "  Let  me  take  you  to  mamma." 

Dell  followed.  The  house  had  a  more  modern  aspect, 
but  it  was  chiefly  in  the  furnishing.  Mrs.  Beaumanoir 
greeted  Dell  with  careless  courtesy. 

"Aunt  Sherburne  explained  to  you,  I  suppose,  that 
you  were  to  take  lessons  with  the  children  until  some 
permanent  arrangements  could  be  made.  Lay  aside 
your  hat.  I  hope  you  will  get  on  well  together." 

She  rose  and  led  her  through  a  long  hall  to  the  school- 
room, where  sat  the  three  younger  children.  Cecil  was 
printing  letters  on  a  slate. 

"This  is  the  child  we  were  talking  of,  Miss  Burtis, 
Miss  Lyndell  Sherburne,  my  dear,  dead  brother's  daugh- 
ter. You  will  see  what  she  is  capable  of  in  a  little  ex- 
amination, though,  I  dare  say,  she  is  not  up  to  the  aver- 
age. But  it  will  be  such  a  relief  to  Aunt  Sherburne  to 
have  her  where  she  will  get  a  little  civilized." 


90  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

Dell  flushed  scarlet.  Why  did  they  all  think  her  such 
a  barbarian  ? 

Miss  Burtis  was  not  young  and  had  a  rather  thin, 
austere  face,  but  the  tones  of  her  voice  were  kindly. 
"We  must  see  what  you  can  do,"  she  began.  "We 
Southerners  have  not  a  very  high  opinion  of  public 
schools.  It  is  impossible  to  train  so  many  children  to- 
gether and  give  them  anything  beyond  the  merest  super- 
ficial smattering.  The  bright  children  show  for  the  whole 
class,  and  the  slow  ones  make  small  progress." 

There  was  a  sense  of  unfairness  in  setting  her  clown 
as  dull,  when  they  knew  nothing  about  her.  Dell's 
pulses  throbbed  resentfully. 

Miss  Burtis  began  to  question  her  at  the  very  bottom 
of  the  ladder.  Ned  was  listening  with  a  sort  of  half-ma- 
licious smile.  The  injudicious  talk  about  Dell  had 
warped  and  colored  the  children's  opinions. 

"  I  have  gone  far  beyond  that,  Miss  Burtis,"  Dell  ex- 
plained with  a  pardonable  triumph  in  her  tone.  "  I  was 
passing  my  examinations  for  the  graduating  class." 

The  governess  had  fancied  the  child  extremely  igno- 
rant and  backward.  But  she  found  that  in  ordinary 
English  branches  she  was  farther  advanced  than  Miss 
Fanny  ;  Latin,  French,  and  music  were  unexplored  re- 
gions to  her. 

"  We  had  better  begin  with  Latin  at  once,"  and  she 
found  her  a  -book,  making  a  few  explanations  about  ac- 
cents and  the  division  of  syllables.  Dell  thought  it  ex- 
tremely ridiculous,  and  could  not  help  going  over  in  her 
mind  the  queer  "hog  latin,"  the  boys  in  Murray's  Row 
used  when  talking  their  secrets. 

She  possessed  a  quick  and  retentive  memory,  and 
though  her  new  friends  might  abhor  public  schools,  they 
had  given  Dell  an  excellent  training.  So  it  was  not  long 
before  she  glanced  up  with  a  half  smile  of  assenting  sat- 
isfaction. 


STANDING    UP   TO    THE  MARK.  91 

"You  surely  cannot  have  learned  it?"  Miss  Burtis 
asked  in  vague  surprise. 

"  Yes.     It  is  not  a  very  long  lesson  ;  "  cheerfully. 

She  repeated  it  with  the  utmost  exactness.  Frances 
and  Ned  stared.  Neither  were  particularly  bright 
scholars  ;  though  Frances  was  fond  of  the  lighter  accom- 
plishments. 

Just  then  Violet  entered.  She  was  not  confined  to  the 
schoolroom  for  the  restlessness  of  the  younger  children 
annoyed  her. 

Miss  Burtis  felt  that  her  new  scholar  had  really  fine 
abilities,  and  was  much  farther  along  in  the  paths  of 
knowledge  than  her  relatives  imagined.  She  examined 
her  in  one  or  two  studies  in  which  she  was  equal  to  Violet, 
although  she  did  not  think  it  wisdom  to  propose  their  re- 
citing together  just  yet. 

Cassy  drove  over  for  her  in  the  phaeton.  She  was  to 
take  home  her  Latin  book,  and  one  in  philosophy,  and  to 
ask  Miss  Sherburne  about  music  lessons. 

After  dinner  she  went  at  her  task,  taking  a  corner  of 
the  veranda.  Miss  Sherburne  was  upstairs.  She  was- 
tired  of  keeping  so  still  and  began  a  little  ramble  down 
the  northern  end  of  the  house.  Another  part  seemed 
joined  to  it,  then  a  large  kitchen,  the  passageway  being 
a  vine-covered  trellis.  Then  a  wide,  luxuriant  garden 
stretching  out,  meeting  a  vineyard  and  an  orchard.  As 
she  strayed  around  quite  a  distance  to  the  south,  she  saw 
what  looked  like  a  little  hamlet. 

Some  sounds  caught  her  ear.  Making  another  turn 
she  came  across  a  rather  curious  enclosure,  shut  off 
from  the  house  by  a  thicket  of  spruce  and  pine.  The 
grass  was  worn  off  in  patches.  There  were  some 
benches  of  the  rudest  sort  standing  around  ;  a  host  of 
little  darkies  tumbling  about,  wrestling,  standing  on  their 
heads,  and  a  group  dancing  to  the  music  of  a  jew's-harp, 
with  an  accompaniment  of  bones.  Some  women  in  gay 


«2  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

turbans  were  sitting  around  sewing,  or  nursing  babies. 
Dell  recalled  a  gaudily-colored  chromo  wonderfully  like 
this,  only  tliere  was  no  old  fiddler  here. 

She  looked  on  with  curious  delight,  a  child's  eager  in- 
terest in  humanity. 

Two  little  darkies  came  rolling  to  her  very  feet. 
"  Hi  !  "  cried  one,  showing  his  teeth  from  ear  to  ear. 
"  Who  am  dat?  Mammy,  jes1  come  here  !  " 

All  eyes  were  turned  to  Lyndell.  She  colored  and 
was  fain  to  retreat. 

"  It's  young  Missy,  isn't  it?  "  asked  a  pleasant  faced 
woman  with  her  sewing,  a  child's  dress,  in  her  hand. 
"  We's  bin  waiting  to  have  a  look  at  you,  honey,  don' 
go  'way.  Here's  a  cheer." 

"  I  was  taking  a  walk — I " 

"  You  Andrew  Johnson  !  you  jus'  done  clar  out,  starin' 
at  Missy  !  "  as  the  children  began  to  crowd  up  around 
her.  "  Here  you  James  Henry  !  "  and  the  woman  dealt 
some  blows  right  and  left  that  sent  the  youngsters 
sprawling  on  the  ground. 

"Oh  don't!"  pleaded  Dell  as  they  set  up  a  terrific 
howl,  but  the  next  instant  they  went  chasing  each  other 
over  the  wide  space. 

A  tall,  bent  old  woman  came  pressing  through  the 
throng. 

"it's  Missy  shore  'nuff.  Mar's  Edward's  little  gal 
who  oughter  been  borned  here,  'stead  o'  way  off  in 
furrin  parts.  We  never  knowed  for  sartin  honey 
whether  you's  dead  or  libe,  or  comin'  here  or  not. 
Eberybody  'spected  Mas'r  Leonard  be  next  on  de  car- 
pet, anyhow  arter  old  Miss  done  gone.  But  it's  all  right 
I  'spect.  We  don'  know  much  'bout  law  'n  all  dat. 
An'  den  we  hear  Mar's  Edward's  little  gal  got  to  cum 
an'  no  one  kin  put  her  out.  An'  my  darter  Zilla  she 
were  his  mammy,  and  she  lubbed  him  jes'  like  her  own 
babies.  'Twas  way  back  in  times  you  don'  know  miffin 


STANDING    UP   TO    THE  MARK,  93 

'bout.  An'  I  was  libbin  in  de  great  house  yere,  cookin' 
and  bakin'.  Sich  times  nebber  come  back  no  mo':  and 
Mas'r  Edward  he  jes'  grow  right  up,  straight  an'  tall  an' 
handsome,  an'  he  granpa  believe  the  berry  sun  rise  in 
dat  ar  boy.  An'  all  de  ladies  gittin'  marr'd  an'  comin' 
home  wid  der  chillen  an'  sech  times  !  An'  Mar's  Edward 
he  go  off  to  college  an'  come  home  harnsomer'n  ebber,  an' 
den  dat  furrin  women  done  stole  him  'way  an'  he  die  an' 
eberybody  go  mos'  crazy." 

The  old  woman  paused  to  draw  her  breath. 

"  That  was  my  own  mamma,"  cried  Dell  indignantly^ 
"And  she  did  not  steal  him  away." 

"  Oh,  yes,  honey."  The  old  woman  nodded  her  head 
with  a  weird  sort  of  emphasis.  "She  done  stole  him 
'way  clar  across  de  big  sea.  An'  he  git  clar  bewitched. 
No  one  eber  see  him  again  until  he  dead,  an'  den  she 
can't  keep  him  no  mo',  fer  de  spell  of  de  bewitchment 
is  jes'  bruk.  How  you  git  across  de  big  sea  ?  " 

"  I  came  with  my  mamma.  And  she  loved  my 
papa  dearly.  She  was  always  crying  for  him.  And 
when  she  died  " — Dell's  lip  quivered  and  her  voice  broke. 

"  Oh,  honey  dear,  don't  cry,"  pleaded  the  old  woman 
rocking  herself  to  and  fro.  "  De  big  law  men  gib  it  to 
you,  an*  you  ain't  to  blame " 

"  Maum  Leah,"  spoke  up  a  comely  youngish  woman 
whose  soft  voice  attracted  Dell  instantly,  and  who  smiled 
over  the  baby  she  held  in  her  arms  as  her  expressive 
eyes  caught  those  of  the  child.  "Maum  Leah,  she 
goin'  to  be  our  young  Missis  and  we  are  all  ready  to 
love  her.  Little  Missy  is  all  right  for  her  grandfather 
settled  it,  and  it  never  could  be  Mar's  Leonard's  while 
she's  alive." 

"  I  wish  it  was  his,"  cried  Dell  passionately.  "  I 
would  a  thousand  times  rather  go  back  to  the  dear 
friends  who  loved  me,  a'nd  who  cared  for  my  own 
mamma." 


94  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

"  Missy,"  said  the  woman  with  a  caressing  sound  in 
her  voice,  "  Missy  you  wait  a  little  wile.  Yous'e  hon,e- 
sick  an'  strange  now.  But  yous'e  goin'  to  grow  up  here 
a  nice  young  lady,  and  when  you  get  trained  and  learned 
you'll  be  able  to  do  ever  so  much,  An'  then  you'll  be 
glad  of  this  gran'  old  home,  an'  you'll  be  happy  as  the 
day  is  long.  An'  you  mustn't  mind  what  anybody  say. 
Mammy  is  always  mammy  to  chillens,  no  matter  what 
they  be  to  other  folks.  An*  all  the  bewitchment  is  just 
love  an'  nothing  else,  and  Mar's  Edward  just  go  after 
the  girl  he  love  because  he  want  her." 

"Shore  Missy  I  ain't  gon  ter  gredge  yo  good  luck," 
began  Maum  Leah  again.  "  Some  folks  dough  mity 
•dis'pinted.  An'  you  come  'cross  de  big  sea  —  miracle 
you  wasn't  drownded.  De  Lawd  he  tuk  care  ob  you. 
An'  if  he  done  tuk  care  ob  you,  you  mus'  be  some  ob 
his  sheep.  An'  if  he  watch  ober  you  an'  bring  you  here, 
mus'  be  right  somehow."  The  old  woman  stopped  with 
<i  curiously  perplexed  expression. 

"Of  course  it's  right,  Maum  Leah,"  said  Lizzy,  "and 
•we're  all  going  to  make  her  feel  welcome.  And  some 
•day  she'll  be  glad  she  came,  and  she'll  love  the  old 
place ' ' 

"  I  never  can  love  it,"  declared  Dell  vehemently. 

"  O  yes,  Missy.  I  was  born  an'  raised  over  yonder, 
an'  sold  South  before  de  war.  An'  I  know  'bout  de 
ache  and  de  homesickness,  an"  de  longin'  when  your 
heart  seem  to  come  out'n  your  body.  An'  when  we 
•was  all  free  I  come  right  along  back,  an'  Sherbon' 
House  de  best  place  I  ebber  see  yet.  An'  Missy  '11 
think  so  one  of  dese  days." 

The  baby  had  been  laughing  to  Dell  and  now  she 
•smiled  back,  holding  up  her  finger  for  him  to  grasp  at. 
Some  of  the  little  darkies  stole  up  shyly  again.  One 
brought  her  a  handful  of  flowers  ;  another  offered  her  a 
luscious  pear.  Their  amusing  idioms,  their  quaint  sharp 


STANDING    UP   TO    THE  MARK.  95 

comments  to  each  other,  the  way  they  rolled  up  the 
whites  of  their  eyes  and  showed  their  glistening  white 
teeth,  made  her  smile.  Lizzie  mounted  guard  that  they 
should  not  prove  obtrusive. 

"  You  like  chillen  ?  "  she  said. 

"  O,  I  have  been  with  them  so  much  since  I  came 
to  America.  And  where  I  lived  they  always  had  a 
baby." 

"  Honey,  you  was  only  a  little  chick  when  yer  pa  died," 
put  in  Maum  Leah.  "  An'  you  can't  'member  'bout  him. 
He  was  han'some  honey,  han'some!  An'  you  don'  look 
like  him,"  shaking  her  head  sadly. 

Dell  flushed,  partly  with  anger,  partly  with  a  desperate 
sense  that  all  Sherburne  House  to  the  very  servants  were 
minded  to  feel  aggrieved  by  her  coming.  It  was  very 
hard. 

Then  her  glance  was  caught  by  two  little  darkies  turn- 
ing summersaults.  They  looked  so  funny  as  their  woolly 
heads  followed  their  bare  feet  with  only  a  very  small 
space  between. 

"  Shall  we  run  a  race,  Missy  ?  "  asked  one.  "  I  kin  beat 
Hec  all  to  rags  !  " 

••  No  you  can't  nuther  !  "  cried  Hec  indignantly,  hitch- 
ing up  his  trousers  by  one  suspender. 

"Chillen,  chillen,"  said  Lizzy  in  her  soft  protesting 
voice. 

"  O  yes,"  said  Dell.  "  Run  a  race.  I'd  like  to  my- 
self." 

They  stood  on  a  line  and  swung  their  hands.  At  a 
word  from  Dell  they  went  skimming  over  the  ground,, 
trodden  hard  and  even  as  a  floor.  At  first  Pete  seemed 
to  keep  the  advantage,  but  suddenly  Hector  flew  along 
and  reached  the  goal. 

"  That  wasn't  fair!  "  shouted  Pete,  and  seizing  his  op- 
ponent began  to  pummel  him.  They  rolled  over  and 
over  in  the  sparse  grass. 


flfi  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

"Tliey'se  always  picking  at  each  other,"  said  Lizzy, 
•who  did  not  seem  to  take  the  scrimmage  amiss.  "  Heck) -'s 
my  boy." 

"  It  was  you,  Pete,  who  were  unfair,"  said  Dell  as  they 
righted  themselves  and  glanced  back  rather  sheepishly. 
*'  When  you  lose  a  race  fairly  you  ought  to  be  honor- 
able." 

"  But  I  kin  beat  him  nex'  time,"  confidently. 

"  H'yar  you  Pete!"  exclaimed  his  mother,  catching 
him  up  and  cuffing  him  vigorously.  "  1'se  'shamed  of 
you,  before  de  young  Missis.  Now  you  jest  toe  de  mark 
or  it'll  be  vvus  for  you." 

But  Pete  did  not  seem  afraid  of  imaginary  marks  or  the 
cuffing.  The  next  instant  he  was  off  skylarking. 

"Do  you  all  live  here?"  inquired  Dell.  "Of  course 
I  know  you  are  not  slaves." 

"  A  good  many  of  us  live  roun'  here,"  in  her  soft  flow- 
ing tones  that  sounded  to  Dell  like  the  purling  of  a  stream. 
"Maum  Leah  and  all  the  house  slaves  were  freed,  but 
they  didn't  want  to  look  out  no  new  home.  We  had  a 
good  master  and  missis." 

"And  you  like  Miss  Sherburne  ? "  Dell  said  it  in- 
voluntarily, and  with  extreme  astonishment. 

"  Old  Miss  mighty  straight,  but  she  never  say  one  thing 
an'  do  'nother.  She  don'  starve  no  one,  an'  she  give 
fair  wages.  An'  when  she's  served  well  she  know  it.  If 
she  ain't  all  honey  to  start,  you  don'  get  more  an'  more 
bitter  as  you  go  on.  Yes,  she's  a  good  Missis.  An'  it'll 
all  come  right  with  you  bimeby.  The  Lord,  he  don'  give 
all  the  grace  an'  good  things  right  off.  You  wait  an' 
wait,  an'  lear^  patience." 

"  Is  that  the  quarters?"  asked  Dell,  glancing  at  the 
cluster  of  whitewashed  cottages. 

"Yes.  Then  over  yender  is  the  'bacca  plantation. 
We  don't  raise  much  cotton  now.  And  a  sight  of  truck 
gardenin'.  We  gets  things  off  early  in  the  season.  Then 


STANDING    UP   TO    THE  MARK.  9T 

the  can  factories  takes  heaps  of  things.  Mis'  Sherbon', 
she  long-headed.  She  don'  set  down  an'  cry  when  de 
war  break  up  everything,  but  just  go  on." 

•"Couldn't  I  go  over  the  quarters ?"  and  Dell  started 
eagerly.  Somehow  she  could  not  consistently  listen  to- 
Miss  Sherburne's  praises. 

"  If  Missis  is  willin',"  said  Lizzy,  glancing  at  her 
questioningly.  "We  all  like  to  know  young  Missy  an' 
make  her  welcome  everywhere." 

Dell  colored  with  a  sudden  consciousness.  There  was 
a  great  confusion  as  yet  on  the  subject  of  her  own  rights. 
Then  she  said  resentfully,  "  But  if  Sherburne  House  is 


"Yes  Missy.  But  ole  Missis  some  kind  of  thing  to 
you — I  can't  'member  just  now,  only  she  oversee  you. 
And  ole  Missis  can't  bear  to  have  nobody  take  the  rule 
out'n  her  hands.  I  can't  make  it  all  straight  to  you 
Missy,  only  maybe  she  want  to  bring  you  some  day  an* 
tell  us  about  our  new  little  Missy " 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  to  this  simple  indirect  appeal  to- 
her  honor.  "  I  was  only  rambling  round  the  house. 
What  a  great  place  it  is!  And  I  must  go  back,"  she 
added,  reluctantly. 

Maum  Leah  and  two  or  three  other  women  were  in  an 
eager  discussion  about  Lyndell's  mother.  Lizzy  did  not 
consider  it  wise  to  have  the  child  overhear  it.  For 
opinion  had  run  very  high  in  bygone  years  to  the  detri- 
ment of  Mrs.  Edward  Sherburne,  and  recent  events  had 
revived  the  old  traditions.  Miss  Sherburne's  disappoint- 
ment was  well  known. 

Lizzy  turned  and  walked  with  her. 

"  Missy,  we  all  hope  you'll  be  happy,"  she  said  wit  I* 
a  sweet  gravity  that  touched  Dell.  "Some  of  us  wait 
a  long  wile  for  things  to  come  round,  but  the  good 
Lord  he  don'  never  quite  forget.  It's  such  a  big  world. 
Missy,  and  everybody  can't  come  to  the  first  table  an' 


98  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

get  served  right  away.  So  we  try  to  wait  patient  "til  our 
turn." 

"Oh,  1  like  you!"  Dell  cried  suddenly,  catching 
Lizzy's  hand.  "  I  wish " 

"  Missy  must  pray  for  the  things  she  want." 

They  stood  at  the  intervening  spruces.  The  servants 
were  not  allowed  beyond  except  on  special  business.  So 
they  said  good-bye. 

Cassy  was  sitting  on  the  side  porch,  sewing. 

"Oh,"  she  exclaimed,  relieved.  "I  was  thinking  I 
must  start  and  hunt  you  up." 

"  I  have  been  walking  around  the  house.  What  a  great 
place  it  is!  And  there  was  a  man  once,  Cassy,  who 
wrote  a  book  from  just  walking  around  his  room.  Our 
teacher  told  us." 

Some  guests  were  driving  away.  Miss  Sherburne  came 
out  to  them. 

"Oh,  here  you  are  with  Cassy,"  she  exclaimed  in  a 
relieved  tone.  "  Have  you  studied  your  lessons?  " 

"  I  had  only  the  Latin.  Yes,  I  know  it."  Then  she 
colored.  She  would  have  announced  so  frankly  to 
Mamma  Murray  where  she  had  been,  but  something 
seemed  to  hold  her  back.  And  now  she  knew  by  a  sud- 
den intuition  that  Miss  Sherburne  would  sharply  disap- 
prove of  it.  But  she  had  not  forbidden  her,  and  what 
•was  the  great  wrong  in  it  ? 

"  Come  and  repeat  your  lesson  to  me,"  said  the 
lady. 

Dell  followed. 

There  was  no  word  of  praise.  "  You  must  begin 
French  at  once,"  she  announced,  peremptorily.  "  And 
music.  Though  I  doubt  if  you  will  make  much  of  a 
player,"  and  she  looked  at  the  sun-browned  hands. 
They  were  not  small,  certainly,  rather  fat,  and  the  nails 
liad  not  been  nicely  kept. 

"What  ungraceful  hands,  and  stubby  fingers!"  she 


STANDING    UP  TO   THE  MARK.  99 

cried  in  disgust.  "  I  can't  see  a  bit  of  Sherburne  about 
you.  You  must  be  altogether  like  your  mother." 

"  But  my  own  mamma  had  long,  slim,  white  hands," 
said  Dell  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  surveying  the  dimpled 
knuckles  and  joints.  "  And  she  was  tall  and  very 
fair." 

"  Well,  you  will  never  be  tall.  One  can  tell  that 
from  your  style.  You  will  be  short  and  stout,  unless 
you  are  dieted  and  trained,  and  it  seems  a  hopeless  un- 
dertaking anyhow." 

Miss  Sherburne  sighed. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

GILDED   PRISON    BARS. 

THE  Beaumahoir  carriage  came  round  the 'drive. 
To-day  It  was  Violet  and  Cecil  with  their  mother.  Cecil 
pleaded  for  croquet,  and  Dell  was  .glad  to  go  with  him 
to  escape  the  sharp  glances  that  seemed  so  unfriendly. 
She  could  amuse  children  delightfully,  and  Cecil  was 
taken  captive  with  her  merry  ways,  her  good-humored 
readiness. 

Miss  Burtis'  verdict  had  been  much  more  favorable 
than  any  one  expected.  Mrs.  Beaumanoir  was  quite 
disposed  to  look  at  some  of  the  possibilities,  and  accept 
philosophically  what  must  be  endured. 

"  Since  we  cannot  make  her  pretty  and  stylish,  I  am 
thankful  she  has  the  capability  of  receiving  a  good 
education.  Of  course  we  cannot  quite  tell.  They 
cram  children  dreadfully  in  the  northern  public  schools, 
and  train  them  so  by  rote.  Miss  Burtis  is  willing 
to  give  her  music  lessons,  but  I  was  thinking,  aunt; 
that  it  would  be  better  to  begin  with  Mr.  Sterret, 
as  Miss  Burtis  will  go  away  presently." 

"And  that  must  be  arranged  for,"  cried  the  poor 
lady.  "  I  can't  have  her  running  wild  all  summer." 

"  You  had  better  decide  in  favor  of  a  school,  I 
think." 

"  That  could  not  provide  for  her  until  autumn.  And 
it  would  take  her  interest  entirely  away.  I  want 
her  to  learn  to  care  for  her  home,  to  respect  it,  to  have 
some  veneration  for  it.  It  is  not  like  any  ordinary 
home.  I  do  not  believe  she  ever  can  be  made  to  ap- 
100 


GILDED  PRISON  BARS.  101 

preciate  her  father's  family  or  her  good  birth  on  the 
one  side,  but  it  seems  my  duty  to  try  and  instill  this 
into  her." 

"Unless  you  find  her  utterly  unmanageable.  There 
is  a  sort  of  obstinacy  in  her  face  that  I  fear.  Still  we 
may  find  some  one  to  take  charge  of  her  in  vacation. 
I  will  ask  Miss  Burtis.  She  had  friends  in  'several 
northern  cities." 

While  the  ladies  planned  and  bewailed,  Dell  quite 
won  Cecil's  heart.  Of  course  Cassy  played  duenna. 
The  strange  relative  was  too  little  known  to  be  trusted 
with  any  young  member  of  the  family.  When  they 
were  tired  they  came  and  sat  on  the  steps  of  the  ve- 
randa. Violet  had  opened  the  parlor  windows,  and  was 
playing  on  the  piano.  She  had  an  exquisite  touch  and 
music  was  a  passion  with  her. 

Dell  listened  carelessly  at  first,  but  now  and  then  a 
strain  like  one  of  Mamma  Murray's  songs  roused  her. 
It  was  indeed  part  of  an  opera  with  a  song  that  had 
been  a  great  favorite  twenty  years  before.  Dell's 
heart  began  to  beat  tumultuously,  A  passionate  long- 
ing rose  in  her  soul  to  be  folded  again  in  the  dear 
arms.  She  hardly  remembered  the  last  quivering  notes 
of  the  melody,  or  realized  that  it  had  ceased. 

Violet  came  to  the  window,  stepped  out,  but  Dell 
did  not  stir.  She  leaned  slightly  against  the  column 
with  a  kind  of  relaxed  softness  in  her  shoulders  and 
the  curve  of  her  neck.  The  wind  had  blown  the 
short  ends  of  her  hair  about  her  forehead,  giving  it  a 
misty  look,  her  mouth  had  an  unknown  sweetness,  and 
her  eyes,  fixed  on  some  far  object,  yet  not  seeing  it, 
were  filmed  over  with  tears  that  quivered  but  did  not  fall. 

"  She  is  not  so  very  plain,"  Violet  thought.  Then 
with  an  effort  she  steeled  her  heart  against  her.  She 
had  spoiled  all  Leonard's  future.  Sherburne  House 
could  never  be  the  lovely  old  home  they  had  always 


102  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

counted  on,  with  this  strange  girl  growing  up  in  it. 
And  surely  she  could  not  have  the  affection,  the  inter- 
est, the  pride  of  family  that  had  been  borne  and  bred 
in  them  until  it  had  become  a  second  nature.  A  girl 
who  would  be  just  as  happy  in  returning  to  a  hovel ! 
for  Violet  somehow  entertained  the  idea  that  emigrants 
must  perforce  keep  to  their  own  station  in  life  when 
they  came  to  America.  She  had  listened  to  the 
description  of  the  crowd  in  the  Murrays'  yard  and 
Dell  dancing  before  them,  and  it  woke  a  feeling  of 
disgust. 

The  Beaumanoirs  did  not  remain  to  supper.  Dell 
thought  the  evening  dreadfully  long.  She  sat  on  the 
steps  in  the  soft  light  and  lived  over  again  the  most 
delightful  of  the  olden  hours.  She  came  out  of  her 
reverie  the  instant  she  glanced  up  and'  caught  Miss 
Sherburne's  cold,  disapproving  eyes,  that  had  changed 
all  of  life  for  her. 

If  Miss  Sherburne  could  have  brought  herself  to  a 
familiar  conference  with  her  new  charge  and  explained 
her  own  wishes  in  the  matter,  appealing  kindly  to  Dell 
to  help  her  carry  them  out,  the  child  would  have  taken 
her  true  place  at  once.  As  it  was,  she  felt  like  a  bird 
suddenly  caught  and  caged,  taken  to  an  unknown 
sphere.  No  one  had  even  properly  introduced  her  to 
it.  Mr.  Murray  had  made  the  only  explanation,  and 
she  puzzled  her  brain  wondering  how  all  this  large 
estate  could  be  hers  and  yet  she  have  no  real  right  to 
anything. 

Julius  took  her  to  school  the  next  morning.  Her 
Latin  was  a  success.  Then  Miss  Burtis  started  her  at 
French.  Alas,  poor  Dell !  Something  was  the  matter 
with  her  tongue.  Ned  tittered  a  little  and  Frances 
glanced  at  her  with  a  sort  of  insolent  pity.  Dell 
colored,  became  confused,  and  not  another  word  would 
she  utter. 


GILDED  PRISON  BARS.  103 

"Well,"  said  Miss  Burtis  kindly,  "you  may  wait  a 
while.  The  pronunciation  is  difficult  at  first  and  the  ac- 
cent very  trying  to  a  new  beginner." 

F ranees  rattled  off  hers  in  triumph.  When  they  had 
all  been  dismissed,  Miss  Burtis  took  Dell  kindly  in  hand 
and  made  some  simple  explanations. 

"  I  shall  never  learn  it,"  said  Dell  decisively.  "  I  hate 
the  sound  of  it.  And  I  simply  can  7.  What  is  the  use. 
1  shall  never  go  to  France." 

"  My  dear  child,  you  are  almost  sure  to  go  to  Paris 
some  time  in  your  life.  Then  it  is  a  really  elegant  ac- 
complishment. There  is  a  great  deal  in  French  literature 
that  may  be  studied  to  an  advantage.  But  hereafter  we 
will  have  it  by  ourselves.  You  do  so  well  in  Latin  that  I 
am  quite  sure  the  other  will  come  easily  by  and  by." 

Dell  sighed  in  doleful  indifference. 

As  she  was  driving  home  with  Cassy,  she  said  sud- 
denly : 

"  Will  you  not  let  me  get  out  and  walk?  I  am  so  tired 
of  sitting.  I  want  to  run  and  jump.  I  will  promise  to 
keep  up  with  you." 

"  Miss  Dell !  "  Cassy  looked  horrified.  It  had  been 
very  distinctly  impressed  upon  Cassy's  mind  that  she 
must  do  something  toward  training  this  young  savage  ; 
that  all  wildness  must  be  repressed. 

•  •Well— why  not?  Haven't  I  any  rights  because  I 
have  been  brought  here  against  my  will  ?  Can't  I  stir  a 
step,  or  take  a  walk,  or  do  anything  as  I  like  ?  " 

"You  are  to.  obey  Miss  Sherburne.  And  Miss  Dell, 
you  were  around  to  the  quarters  yesterday,  alone.  1  am 
quite  sure  she  will  be  vexed  when  she  hears  it." 

"  If  Sherburne  House  is  mine,  I  have  a  right  to  go 
about  it,"  returned  Dell  with  sharp  independence. 

"  But  it  is  not  yours  yet.  You  must  wait  until  you 
are  of  age.  And  you  must  do  as  your  guardians 
wish." 


104  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

"My  guardians  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  Miss  Shefburne  is  one  of  them.  Mr. 
Whittingham  and  Mr.  Beaumanoir  take  care  of  the 
money  and  do  the  business,  and  Miss  Sherburne  will 
look  after  your  education.  And  she  wants  you  to  be  a 
lady." 

Dell's  breath  came  hard  and  her  face  flushed. 

"Well,"  she  said  passionately,  "  I  hope  I  shall  never 
be  such  a  lady  !  I  wouldn't  be  like  her  for  all  the 
world  !  I  would  a  hundred  times  rather  be  like  Mamma 
Murray.  And  if  I  am  to  have  nothing  at  all,  and  no 
liberty,  why,  then,  I  am  a  prisoner!  " 

Gassy  made  no  reply.  Dell  winked  hard  to  keep  the 
tears  out  of  her  eyes.  To  Cassy  there  was  a  settled  and 
unalterable  manner  of  being  a  lady.  The  Beaumanoir 
children  might  do  selfish  and  disagreeable  things,  but 
they  were  graceful,  well-mannered,  trained  in  certain 
society  ways,  and  these  were  right.  Cassy  had  great  re- 
spect for  good  birth,  and  Dell's  low  proclivities  had  been 
so  largely  and  freely  discussed,  that  she  looked  upon 
them  with  dismay,  although  she  felt  a  curious  pity  for 
the  child. 

What  a  horrid  afternoon  it  was !  Dell  was  unfortu- 
nate at  the  table.  She  dropped  her  fork  and  dodged 
quickly  to  pick  it  up,  coming  in  view  with  a  flushed  face. 
This  was  pointed  out  as  a  blunder.  She  was  confused, 
and  presently  tipped  over  her  glass  of  water. 

"How  clumsy  you  are!  "  exclaimed  Miss  Sherburne 
sadly  annoyed.  "  You  will  leave  the  tabje." 

Dell  flounced  out  of  the  room.  She  was  still  hungry 
and  that  made  her  cross. 

After  the  Latin,  Miss  Sherburne  bade  her  come  out  on 
the  veranda. 

"  Do  you  know  how  to  sew  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  I  can  run  the  machine,"  answered  Dell  quickly. 

"  What  a  vulgar  manner  of  announcing  it — as  if  you 


GILDED  PRISON  BARS.  105 

liad  been  brought  up  a  common  seamstress  !  And  hand- 
sewing  looks  so  much  more  refined.  Of  course,  you 
know  nothing  about  embroidering,  or  lace-work,  and  I 
did  yards  of  it  before  I  was  as  old  as  you.  Here  is 
some  ruffling  you  may  hem." 

Poor  Dell.  She  pricked  her  finger,  the  thread  knotted, 
her  hands  perspired,  the  needle  creaked  and  then  broke. 
The  sewing  was  soiled  and  she  was  sent  to  wash  her 
hands.  The  offensive  work  was  cut  off  and  she  was 
started  again.  All  the  long  warm  afternoon  she  toiled 
over  the  wretched  sewing,  only  to  emulate  Penelope's 
web  in  the  end. 

"  You  will  have  to  sew  every  afternoon  until  you  can 
do  it  neatly,"  was  the  sharp  comment. 

Dell  had  a  wild  impulse  to  spring  up  and  defy  her. 
The  birds  were  flitting  from  tree  to  tree,  or  making  a 
swift  dart  across  the  sky.  Oh,  if  she  had  been  a  bird  ! 

A  carriage  drove  up  and  two  ladies  with  a  fine-look- 
ing elderly  gentleman  alighted. 

"  You  may  take  your  sewing  and  go  around  on  the  side 
veranda,"  said  Miss  Sherburne. 

Dell  flitted  through  the  hall.  She  had  no  curiosity 
concerning  the  guests.  But  she  sat  on  the  step,  idly,  for 
many  minutes.  A  squirrel  ran  across  the  walk  and 
seemed  to  wink  at  her  out  of  his  bright  eyes.  Then  the 
ungovernable  desire  overcame  her.  She  ran  down  the 
path.  Ah,  how  delightful  it  was  in  the  sweet,  inspiriting 
air!  How  good  to  feel  one's  pulses  stir  and  thrill.  On 
she  went  like  a  deer,  over  the  short  grass,  the  paths,  any- 
where. She  was  free  for  a  moment.  If  she  had  come 
back  all  would  have  been  well.  But  she  threw  herself 
on  the  grass  under  a  tree  and  listened  to  the  drowsy 
music  of  the  summer  day.  She  was  almost  asleep  when 
a  voice  roused  her. 

"  Lyndell !  Lyndell  Sherburne,  get  up  this  moment. 
You  rude,  ill-behaved  girl  !  Had  you  no  better  sense 


106  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

than  to  go  racing  around  like  a  mad  creature  ?  One 
would  surely  think  you  had  never  been  in  civilized  life. 
never  seen  any  decent  people.  Go  back  to  the  house 
and  up  to  your  room  at  once.  I  am  ashamed  of  yen:." 

Dell  walked  stiffly.  "  She  can't  take  my  splendid  run 
away  from  me,"  the  child  thought  exultantly.  She  \\t  i  • 
to  her  room  and  took  up  the  hateful  sewing,  feeling  I'D;.;. 
she  could  tear  it  to  bits.  And  there  she  remained.  Her 
supper  was  brought  up  by  Cassy.  Before  she  went  \<> 
bed  she  had  to  listen  to  a  lecture  on  her  rude  and  un- 
couth behavior.  And  though  she  looked  sullen  and  in- 
different while  she  was  listening,  she  cried  herself  to 
sleep  afterward. 

On  Saturday  Miss  Burtis  came  over  with  the  children. 
Miss  Sherburne  listened  with  most  contradictory  emotions 
to  the  account  the  governess  gave  of  her  new  pupil.  She 
would  not  have  wished  her  dull  and  ignorant,  and  yet 
she  hated  to  think  she  had  made  progress  under  any 
auspices  save  those  of  Sherburne  House. 

The  natural  instinct  of  the  children  for  fun  overcame 
the  secret  antagonism  between  them.  They  ran  some 
races,  then  Ned  dared  Lyndell  to  climb  a  tree,  which  she- 
did  without  hesitation. 

"  O,  we  must  go  down  and  see  Aunt  Chloe,"  he  cried 
presently.  "  Come  on.  The  little  pickaninnies  are  so 
funny.  And  Aunt  Chloe  always  has  something  good  to 
eat." 

Lyndell  followed.  If  they  could  go  to  the  quarters 
why  not  she?  Through  the  pine  plantation  they  dashed, 
coming  out  in  the  midst  of  the  cottages.  There  was  a 
shout  of  welcome  as  the  little  darkies  espied  Massa 
Ned. 

Massa  Ned  put  them  through  sundry  evolutions, 
whistled  that  they  might  dance  a  breakdown.  Dell 
noticed  a  fat  woman  in  a  blue  petticoat  and  faded  short 
gown  standing  in  a  doorway  which  she  filled,  her  hands 


GILDED  PRISON  BARS.  107 

on  her  hips  and  laughing  until  she  shook.  It  was  such 
an  odd  place — a  one-story  cabin  with  a  peaked  roof.  At 
either  end  stood  a  hogshead  to  catch  the  rain  drips.  Tise 
door  was  in  the  middle  with  a  window  on  each  side. 

"  There's  Aunt  Chloe."     Ned  ran  over. 

"  Bres'  de  Lawd  if  yer  ain't  Mass'  Ned  an'  Missy. 
Come  in  chillen.  Aun'  Chloe  baked  a  nice  cake  an'  no' 
you's  must  hab  a  chunk.  An"  dat  ar  gal — she  de  one 
dat  cum  frum  dat  wicked  city  wat  de  passon  sed  wos 
like  Sodom  'n  Gomorrer.  Gib  tanks  chile  dat  you 
'scaped  alibe.  An'  you  don'  look  no  more  like  Missy 
dere  'n  a  posy  like  a  blackberry  vine.  No  one  'd 
b'lebe  you  'n  Missy  cousins." 

"  Cousins!  "  ejaculated  Ned  indignantly.  For  though 
there  had  been  much  talk  of  Uncle  Edward  they  had 
never  given  the  child  a  virtual  relationship.  "  Cousins !  " 
as  if  the  idea  was  distasteful. 

Aunt  Chloe's  fat  sides  shook,  as  she  gave  a  loud 
guffaw.  "  Wher'  yer  reck'nin'  Massa  Ned?  Ain't  no 
cousins  an'  yer  mudder  'n  her  fadder  own  brudder  'n 
sister.  Sho  now !  An'  if  she  hadn't  been,  who'd  done 
gone  scourin'  de  kentry  roun'  jes'  as  dey  used  wen  slaves 
run  away  to  fin'  her!  'Twould  a  made  a  mity  sight  oh 
dif 'runce  to  some  of  you  uns.  But  good  Ian'  !  Ycr 
ilon'  favor  de  Sherbons  any  more'n  if  yer  didn't  b'lon;^ 
10  "em." 

Dell  flushed  resentfully;  Edward's  look  had  stung 
her.  But  surely  she  did  not  want  them  for  cousins  any 
more  than  they  wanted  her. 

"  Now  you  jes'  cum  in  an'  hev  yer  cookies.  Dey  got 
sugar  on  de  top  an'  nutmeg.  I  knows  whose  got  a  sweet 
toof.  An'  sum  fer  new  Missy?"  glancing  at  Dell. 
"  You  like  cookies?  " 

"  I  don't  want  any."  Dell  turned  away  and  at  that 
moment  spied  Lizzy,  hastening  at  once  to  her. 

"  O,  Miss  Lyndell  !   I  saw  you  here  with  your  cousins. 


108  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

Maum  Chloe  always  gives  them  some  sweets.  Don' 
you " 

She  made  a  rush  at  Lizzy  and  began  to  sob  vehe- 
mently. 

••  There,  there,  honey,  don'  cry  so.  Was  any  one 
cross  to  you  ?  Pore  lamb  !  " 

"They  don't  want  me  here!  None  of  them  do! 
And  I'm  so  lonesome  and  wretched  with  no  one  to  love 
me  ever  such  a  little  bit." 

Lizzy's  clasp  tightened. 

"  If  I  had  wanted  to  come  to  Sherburne  House," 
sobbed  Dell,  "  it  would  have  been  different.  And  oh, 
why  can't  I  go  back?" 

"  O  Missy  dear,  don*  cry  so.  You  see  no  one  can 
help  ner  hinder.  The  good  Lord  he  jes'  let  it  happen 
this  way,  and  maybe  the  reason  all  come  round  clear 
some  day.  'Tain't  daylight  all  to  once  Missy.  An"  it's 
darkest  jes'  'fore  dawn,  but  the  day  always  comes.  And 
you  must  jes'  trus'  the  Lord." 

"  How  ^an  I?"  cried  Dell  despairingly.  "  And  you 
see  there  is  nothing  about  me  that  fits  Sherburne 
House,  while  at  home  with  Mamma  Murray  everything 
was  smooth  and  delightful.  I  did  not  try  to  be  good — 
it  came  easy." 

"  You  had  anoder  mammy  ?"  queried  Lizzy.  At  the 
quarters  they  had  an  idea  that  the  child  had  been  res- 
cued from  some  terrible  kind  of  life. 

"Oh  let  me  tell  you."  They  walked  on  to  Lizzy's 
cabin.  There  was  a  neat  living  room  where  the  floor 
was  scrubbed  clean  as  a  pin.  The  adjoining  apartment 
was  a  sort  of  parlor,  with  a  square  of  carpet  in  the  centre 
made  of  odds  and  ends  so  tastefully  arranged  it  looked 
almost  like  an  oriental  rug,  but  Lizzy  knew  nothing 
about  the  Orient  and  its  manufactures.  A  bed  stood 
in  one  corner,  piled  up  high  and  white  as  a  snowdrift. 
At  a  window  sat  a  young  girl  sewing  on  a  machine. 


GILDED   PRISON  BARS.  109 

It  seemed  so  good  to  Dell  to  tell  her  story  even  to  a 
colored  woman  who  had  no  place  in  the  great  house. 
In  the  dreary  loneliness  Dell  realized  that  she  had 
found  a  true  friend.  She  could  feel  it  in  the  gentle 
clasp,  in  the  soft,  sympathetic  eyes.  And  surely  the 
Murrays'  friendly  deed  lost  nothing  at  her  hands.  It 
seemed  as  if  she  had  never  understood  the  full  purport 
and  generosity  of  it  until  now.  Her  soul  awoke  to  the 
true  measure. 

Lizzy  wiped  her  eyes.  "They  were  the  Lord's  own 
people,"  she  said.  "  And  you  see,  honey,  how  he  raised 
up  friends  fer  you  and  your  poor  sick  mother.  He's 
watchin'  you  now.  His  ways  is  mysteries,"  and  Lizzy's 
voice  dropped  to  a  reverential  sound. 

"  But  you  see,  I  ought  not  forget  them." 

"  Fergit  them,  Miss  Lyndell !  Why,  honey,  that 
would  be  the  mos'  unthankfulest  thing  of  all.  No  you 
mustn't  fergit  them.  And  the  Lord  '11  bring  them  to  you 
somehow.  We  can't  see.  But  it'll  all  come  right  for 
them  that  trust  the  Lord." 

Dell  did  not  understand  the  reasoning,  but  the  soft 
flowing  voice  comforted  her  and  she  dried  her  eyes. 

"  You  kin  eat  a  saucer  of  berries,  I  know,"  and  Lizzy 
smiled.  "  An'  a  chunk  o'  cake." 

"You  are  so  kind.  And  if  you'll  let  me  come 
often " 

Lizzy  shook  her  head  slowly,  regretfully. 

"  That  mus'  be  as  ole  Missis  says.  She  rule  eberybody. 
But  you're  always  welcome.  I'm  glad  there  was  some- 
thin'  to  make  you  happy  up  norf,"  and  she  indicated  the 
far-off  city  with  her  head.  "  I  hope  you'll  git  over  bein' 
homesick.  Some  nice  people  over  yender  brought  me 
up,  'n  when  they  died  'n  I  was  sold  Souf,  my  heart 
break,  fer  shua  !  I  wanted  to  run  away  'n  come  back. 
I  cry  to  the  Lord  powerful,  honey,  an'  he  send  his  angel 
'cordin'  to  promis'.  Homer,  that's  my  man,  come  to 


110  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

comfort  me.  An'  de  good  Lord  give  me  a  baby,  an* 
dat  gloris  freedom  we  all  prayin'  fer,  an'  led  us  back  tru 
de  wilderness.  De  Lord  bring  it  all  right,  honey." 

Dell  finished  her  berries  and  glanced  over  the  rows  of 
vegetables,  the  waving  corn,  the  poles  of  beans  in  white 
and  scarlet  array.  About  the  door  hung  great  sprays  of 
honeysuckle  and  a  pyramid  of  hollyhocks.  Out  beyond 
was  a  gorgeous  poppy  bed,  and  roses  everywhere.  Some 
of  the  cabins  seemed  set  in  the  desert  by  mere  contrast, 
and  more  than  one  garden  patch  was  full  of  weeds. 

Just  then  a  tall,  thin  mulatto  man  came  up  the  walk. 
He  stooped  a  little  in  the  shoulders,  and  his  gait  was 
rather  shambling,  but  he  had  a  good  face,  full  of  that 
honest,  pathetic,  wordless  asking  that  you  sometimes 
find  in  faces  that  have  puzzled  over  the  mysteries  of  life. 
There  had  been  many  for  Homer  Jackson,  but  he  was 
very  comfortable  now,  happy  in  the  love  of  wife  and 
children,  and  sufficiently  penetrated  with  the  ambitions 
of  the  new  order  of  things  to  desire  advancement  for  his 
children  if  he  could  not  have  much  for  himself. 

"  This  is  young  Missy,  Homer,"  said  his  wife.  "  Miss 
Lyndell,  who  will  one  day  be  missis  to  us  all,"  and  she 
smiled. 

He  had  a  bundle  of  blocks  and  pieces  of  board  under 
cne  arm,  but  with  the  other  he  touched  his  old  straw  hat. 

"  Welcome,  Missy,"  he  said.  "  I  knowed  yer  pa 
when  he  was  a  han'some  young  man.  An'  I  hope 
everybody's  made  you  welcome.  'Pears  right  fer  Mar's 
Edward's  chile  to  come  back  'mong  us,  but  there's  been 
a  many  changes.  'Pears  hard  he  couldn't  a  lived  to 
come  hisself." 

Dell's  eyes  filled  with  tears.  The  regret  seemed  so 
kindly,  so  sincere. 

"  But  we'll  do  all  we  kin  in  duty  to  you,  Missy,"  and 
lie  touched  his  hat  again.  "  'Twon't  be  long  'fore  you're 
a  young  lady  growed  up." 


GILDED  PRISON  EARS.  Ill 

Dell  suddenly  realized  that  it  must  be  late,  and  won- 
dered what  had  become  of  Ned  and  Frances. 

"  You  jes'  run  over  to  Chloe's,"  said  Lizzy  to  Homer 
junior. 

The  children  had  gone  long  ago.  Dell  flushed  with 
an  unwonted  heart  tremble.  Then  she  seized  Lizzy's 
hand  and  pressed  it  to  her  cheek.  It  was  soft  and 
shapely.  Toil  had  not  left  unsightly  impresses  on  it. 

"Good-bye,"  she  cried,  and  ran  down  the  sort  of  lane- 
like  street. 

As  she  threaded  her  way  through  the  shady  pines,  the 
dry  needles  yielding  like  cushions  under  her  feet,  her 
whole  being  was  mysteriously  stirred.  Here  her  father 
had  played  about  as  a  little  boy.  Everybody  seemed  to 
remember  his  bright  winsomeness.  Everybody  had  loved 
him  !  It  appeared  an  incomprehensible  mystery  that  he 
should  have  gone  away — even  with  her  mother.  Of  the 
greater  love  and  the  enthusiastic  faith  of  manhood  and 
womanhood  Dell  could  know  nothing  as  yet.  But  for  a 
moment  she  felt  tempted  to  blame  her  mother. 

Just  as  she  emerged  from  the  pines  she  caught  sight  of 
Cassy  coming  swiftly  toward  her. 

"  O  Miss  Dell,  how  could  you  !  "  the  girl  cried  in  vex- 
ation. "When  you  know  how  necessary  it  is  to  keep 
on  the  right  side  of  Miss  Sherburne." 

"  She  hasn't  any  right  side  for  me,"  declared  the  child 
with  abrupt  defiance.  "  Nothing  I  could  do  would  seem 
nice  to  her.  She  doesn't  want  me  here,  and  yet  she  is 
compelled  to  have  me,  and  it  is  cruel  to  blame  me  — 

"  Hush,  Miss  Dell.  You  do  not  try  to  make  her  like 
you." 

"  I  don't  care  whether  she  does  or  not,"  and  Dell's 
lip  curled  scornfully. 

"  If  you  had  only  come  home  with  the  other  children," 
said  Cassy,  "  there  would  have  been  no  great  time.  But 
Mar's  Ned  said  they  looked  for  you  everywhere." 


112  SHERBUKNE  HOUSE. 

"  It  is  a  lie  !  "  cried  Dell  indignantly.  "  I  was  only  at 
Lizzy's  cottage.  And  Chloe  would  have  sent  some  one 
to  find  me.  They  hate  me — those  children.  And  Ned 
isn't  fair  nor  square  in  anything  !  " 

Dell's  code  of  right  and  wrong  had  been  so  ex- 
tremely simple  at  the  Murrays  that  her  own  frankness 
was  prejudicial  to  her. 

Miss  Sherburne  stood  on  the  side  porch,  taller  and 
more  judicial  looking  than  ever.  Dell  marched  up 
boldly,  defiance  in  every  line  of  her  face. 

"  How  came  you  to  go  down  to  the  quarters  without 
permission?  "  was  the  sharp  inquiry. 

"My  cousin  Edward  proposed  it,"  answered  Dell  with 
a  kind  of  mimicking  insolence.  "  And  if  he  who  has  no 
especial  right  here,  can  go  where  he  likes,  I  cannot  un- 
derstand why  I  should  not,  when  I  am  to  be  mistress  of 
Sherburne  House  presently." 

Miss  Sherburne  was  speechless  with  indignation.  If 
she  had  followed  her  first  impulse  Dell's  cheek  would 
have  tingled  with  a  blow.  In  her  young  days  such  a 
punishment  would  have  followed  swiftly.  But  methods 
had  changed  since  her  girlhood,  and  she  was  delicate 
enough  herself  to  understand  the  indignity. 

"  Miss  Lyndell  Sherburne,"  she  said,  with  the  auster- 
ity of  a  judge,  "you  will  please  understand  once  for  all 
that  I  have  an  older  right  than  yours,  and  that  it  holds 
good  during  my  lifetime.  The  hand  that  signed  the  un- 
fortunate will  giving  your  father  such  a  heritage,  only  to 
be  repaid  with  ingratitude,  provided  me  with  a  home  in 
my  father's  house  so  long  as  I  choose  to  keep  it.  You 
never  can  have  all  the  right  while  I  live.  I  could  send 
you  away  to  school  and  not  allow  you  to  enter  this  house 
for  the  next  five  years." 

"  O,  I  wish  you  would,"  cried  Dell  eagerly.  "  If  you 
are  going  to  stay  here  always,  I  shall  hate  it  worse  than 
•ever  !  Do  send  me  to  school !  " 


GILDED   PRISON  BARS.  113 

"Go  up  to  your  room  immediately.  You  will  not 
leave  it  again  to-night,  and  you  will  have  no  supper. 
You  shall  be  made  obedient  and  respectful  if  it  takes 
weeks  to  do  it.  A  great  shameless  girl  like  you,  running 
races  with  boys  and  climbing  trees,  and  making  yourself 
an  object  of  ridicule  for  the  very  servants !  And  you  are 
not  to  go  near  the  quarters.  You  are  not  to  stir  out  of 
the  house  without  permission." 

"  You  have  no  right  to  keep  me  a  prisoner." 

"Not  another  word  ;  go  !  "  She  caught  her  by  the 
shoulder  and  thrust  her  into  the  hall.  Dell  walked  with 
a  firm  step  and  held  up  her  head  defiantly,  though  her 
cheeks  were  in  a  blaze.  In  her  own  room  she  threw  off 
her  hat,  then  dropped  on  the  side  of  the  bed  and  gave 
way  to  a  paroxysm  of  laughter  that  was  half  hysterical 
weeping. 

Gassy  entered  and  stared  at  her  in  surprise. 

"  Do  you  suppose  she  will  kill  me,  Cassy  ?  "  the  child 
asked.  "  Because  I  would  as  lief  be  dead  as  to  live 
with  her  forever  and  ever.  Is  it  true  that  she  must  stay 
here  always?  Then  what  good  will  Sherburne  House 
be  to  me  ?  I  know  she  will  live  to  be  a  hundred  just  to 
spite  me." 

There  was  an  ominous  silence.  Cassy  put  away  her 
hat,  then  began  to  unbutton  her  boots. 

"I'm  not  going  to  bed!"   cried   Dell.     <4Why,   it's 
daytime.     It  won't  be  night  for  ever  so  long.     And  you  , 
can  t  make  me." 

She  stood  up  defiantly. 

"  Miss  Dell,  you  had  better  allow  me  to  undress  you,, 
or  I  must  call  Miss  Sherburne." 

Dell  considered.  "  Very  well,"  with  a  dignity  that 
would  have  done  credit  to  her  great-aunt.  Cassy  dis- 
robed her,  brushed  out  her  tangled  mat  of  hair,  and 
then  carefully  put  away  her  clothes. 

"Ask  God   to   make  you  a  better  girl  when  you  say 


114  SHERBURNE  HOl'xE. 

your  prayers,  Miss  Dell,"  Cassy  said  as  she  turned  to 
leave  the  room.  Then  Dell  heard  tlie  click  of  the  lock, 
and  her  face  was  in  a  scarlet  blaze  again. 

She  had  climbed  two  trees.  She  had  run  several 
races  ;  perhaps  the  sin  lay  in  doing  it  with  Ned.  Frances 
had  taken  no  share  in  the  boisterous  sport.  And  she 
had  talked  to  Lizzy.  Already  she  liked  her  better  than 
Cassy.  What  was  there  so  terrible,  since  she  really  had 
not  been  forbidden  to  do  any  of  them  ? 

She  wrapped  a  shawl  around  her  and  seated  herself 
one  side  of  the  window  in  a  low  willow  rocker.  She  had 
half  a  mind  to  don  her  clothes  and  climb  out  of  the 
window.  She  wondered  what  rights  she  really  liad. 
Must  she  obey  Miss  Sherburne  in  everything? 

"If  I  only  knew,"  she  ruminated,  with  a  perplexed 
brow.  "Mamma  Murray  always  told  me  what  not  to 
do,  and  it  doesn't  seem  as  if  I  was  so  very  bad  then. 
Oh,  my  dear,  sweet  mamma,  if  I  could  but  fly  back  to 
you  !  And  you  were  all  so  good  to  me,  and  loved  me 
when  you  might  have  sent  me  away.  And  papa  Mur- 
ray used  to  carry  me  in  his  arms  like  the  good  shepherd 
in  the  picture.  And  he  never  said,  'go  'way,  little  girl, 
1  have  lambs  enough  of  my  own.'  Oh,  my  dear  papa 
Murray." 

Dell  cried  for  very  loneliness  and  longing.  She 
wanted  to  feel  the  fond  arms  about  her,  the  warm  kisses 
on  her  lips.  Ah,  if  she  could  only  throw  up  Sherburne 
House  and  go  back  ! 

How  lovely  it  all  was.  The  birds  were  singing  slow- 
homeward  tunes,  or  croning  to  their  nest  full  of  lit  tie 
ones.  Every  pulse  of  Dell's  protested  against  the  cruelty 
of  being  shut  up  here.  And  she  was  hungry.  She  had 
never  been  denied  a  meal  before  in  her  life  !  A  passion 
of  anger  drowned  out  her  tender  emotion  of  a  moment 
ago  ;  so  dependent  on  moods  are  our  best  impulses. 

Then  she  bethought  herself  of  a  stolen  pleasure.     She 


GILDED  PRISON  BARS.  115 

had  brought  a  book  upstairs  earlier  in  the  day  from  a 
collection  in  a  small  library  case,  that  looked  as  if  it 
might  be  general  property.  That  she  ought  to  ask,  had 
not  then  occurred  to  her.  Now  she  felt  quite  as  if  she 
had  outwitted  some  one,  and  picked  up  "  Queechy  " 
with  a  thrill  of  delight.  There  she  sat  and  read  until  a 
step  sounded  in  the  adjoining  room,  when  she  crept 
softly  to  bed,  taking  her  book.  She  read  until  dusk 
fairly  overtook  her,  then  hid  her  book  under  the  pillow. 
It  was  Dell's  first  real  lesson  in  deceit,  and  it  gave  her  a 
feeling  of  elation  rather  than  guilt. 

When  Miss  Sherburne  came  to  bed  she  found  her  in 
the  profound,  if  rather  restless,  slumber  of  childhood. 
And  she  sighed  over  the  burthen  she  had  elected  to 
carry. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

BREAD   EATEN   IN   SECRET. 

DELL  was  awake  early  the  next  morning.  It  took  hct 
some  moments  to  disentangle  the  curious  impressions. 
Then  she  remembered  her  book  and  sat  up  to  read  it 
until  she  heard  Miss  Sherburne  stirring  about.  How- 
ever, she  went  downstairs.  Dell  read  on  to  the  last  page 
and  closed  the  book  with  a  sigh.  Then  she  thought  it  a 
prudent  step  to  put  it  out  of  sight. 

She  sprang  back  into  bed  just  as  Cassy  entered. 

"  What !  not  up  yet?  "  asked  Cassy  in  surprise. 

"  I  was  sent  to  bed.  I  did  not  know  when  I  would  be 
allowed  to  get  up,"  she  answered  demurely. 

"  Well,  you  must  be  quick  now." 

Dell  made  no  trouble.  She  generally  helped  herself 
largely.  She  was  just  in  order  when  Miss  Sherburne  ap- 
peared. 

"  I  hope  you  have  thought  over  your  reprehensible 
conduct  of  last  evening,"  said  that  lady  austerely,  "  and 
truly  regret  it.  You  will  beg  my  pardon." 

Dell  stared  in  amazement.  Then  she  said  in  a  firm 
but  not  ungentle  tone, 

"  I  had  not  been  forbidden  to  go  down  to  the  quarters. 
Ned  asked  us  to,  and  Frances  went." 

"  Edward  if  you  please,"  with  freezing  dignity. 
"  Well,  why  did  you  not  return  with  them  ?  " 

Dell  colored.    Surely  it  was  not  her  fault. 

"  You  quarreled  with  them  at  Chloe's  cabin  and  rait 
away.     Where  did  you  go  then  ?  " 
116 


BREAD  EATEN  IX  SECRET.  lit 

Dell  wondered  if  she  would  get  Lizzy  in  trouble.  She 
might  have  to  tell  of  her  other  ramble. 

"I  stopped  at  a  cottage  and  a  woman  spoke  to  me. 
Then  I  went  over  in  the  pine  woods." 

"  And  amused  yourself  climbing  trees?" 

"  No  I  did  not  climb  any  then." 

Dell  stood  silent  for  some  seconds. 

"You  were  insufferably  insolent  to  me,"  and  there 
•was  a  bright  pink  in  Miss  Sherburne's  cheeks. 

"  I  would  much  rather  go  to  school.  And  I  did  not 
know  that  you  had  to  stay  here ' ' 

"  1  do  not  have  to  stay  here,  Miss  Lyndell  Sherburne. 
I  have  sufficient  fortune  of  my  own  to  enable  me  to  live 
anywhere  else.  I  stay  because  the  estate  would  be 
poorly  cared  for  without  my  supervision.  Perhaps  you 
•could  manage  it?  "  with  intense  scorn. 

"I  should  send  for  Mamma  Murray,"  cried  Dell, 
eagerly.  "  She  lived  on  a  farm 

Miss  Sherburne  ground  her  heel  on  the  floor  with  rage, 
she  was  too  lady-like  to  stamp. 

"  Never  let  me  hear  you  mention  that  woman  in  such 
a  manner,"  she  said  with  passionate  anger.  "Those 
people  shall  never  enter  the  house  while  I  am  here — I 
want  you  to  understand  that.  Sit  down  in  that  chair." 
Dell  obeyed. 

What  was  to  be  done  with  this  contumacious  girl? 
Miss  Sherburne  was  at;  her  wits'  end. 

The  breakfast  bell  rafig.  The  lady  walked  majestically 
toward  the  door. 

"Am  I  not  to  have  any  breakfast?"  cried  Dell. 
•"  You  can  starve  me  I  suppose,  but  it  would  be  murder. 
And  if  you  all  hate  me  so  why  can  you  not  send  me  to 
New  York?  I  never  was  a  trouble  to — "her  voice 
broke  a  little — "  any  one  before.  When  I  am  grown  I 
will  never  stay  here  one  day " 

Miss  Sherburne  left  the  room.     Dell  shed  some  tears 


118  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

of  anger  and  bitterness.  Presently  Cassy  came  up  with 
a  plate  of  cold  biscuits  and  a  glass  of  milk.  No  butter 
and  no  fruit.  Dell  felt  it  very  prison-like  rations,  but  she 
was  hungry. 

Cassy  put  the  two  rooms  in  order.  Miss  Sherburne 
came  up  and  gave  her  two  penitential  psalms  to  learn. 
Then  she  dressed  herself  and  locking  Dell  in  went  to 
church. 

Dell  soon  mastered  her  penance.  Oh,  what  should  she 
do  !  If  she  dared  ask  Cassy  to  get  her  the  second  volume 
of  Queechy  !  She  glanced  out  of  the  window  for  a  while. 
Then  a  thought  occurred  to  her.  She  stepped  cautiously 
out  on  the  porch  roof  and  in  again  at  Miss  Sherburne's 
window.  Her  door  stood  wide  open.  No  one  was  in 
sight.  Dell  slipped  down  the  stairs  softly  as  a  mouse  and 
entered  the  library.  She  thrust  her  book  in  and  drew 
out  the  other,  ran  breathlessly  upstairs  and  regained  her 
own  room  with  a  thrill  of  delight. 

Cassy  came  up  once  and  looked  in  upon  her,  then  sat 
down  in  Miss  Sherburne's  room  until  that  lady  returned. 
Dell  hid  her  book  and  took  up  her  psalms.  She  said 
them  properly  and  Miss  Sherburne  read  her  a  moral 
lesson  on  her  wickedness,  which  Dell  resented  with  much 
inward  bitterness,  knowing  it  totally  undeserved. 

Her  noon  meal  was  bread  and  a  glass  of  milk.  Then 
she  read  several  chapters  in  the  Bible  aloud  until  Miss 
Sherburne  went  to  take  her  siesta.  Afterward  the 
Beaumanoirs  came  over  and  remained  to  tea,  but  Dell 
was  so  interested  in  following  the  fortunes  of  poor  sad 
little  Fleda  that  she  minded  nothing.  After  tea  they  all 
went  out  to  drive  and  at  dusk  Dell  had  finished  her 
fascinating  story.  She  was  tired  with  the  enforced  quiet 
and  steady  reading,  and  slipped  into  bed  where  she  soon 
fell  asleep. 

"  That  child  is  hardened  as  a  stone,"  Miss  Sherburne 
said  to  herself.  "  Nothing  makes  an  impression  on  her." 


BREAD    EATEN  7AT  SECRET.  lift 

But  she  resolved  to  keep  her  under  her  own  eye.  to 
tame  her  down,  as  she  phrased  it.  She  had  ruled  slaves 
and  reduced  refractory  servants  to  obedience,  and  the 
child  should  not  defy  her  authority. 

If  she  had  only  made  an  appeal  to  Dell's  better  self, 
the  side  that  could  have  been  so  easily  won  by  a  little 
love.  But  she  did  not,  could  not  love  her.  The  girl's 
mother  had  stolen  away  her  idol.  For  Edward  Sher- 
burne  had  been  like  a  child  of  her  very  own,  dearer  to 
her  than  any  of  the  girls.  She  could  always  see  his 
handsome,  sunny  face,  his  gay,  tender  manner,  his 
affectionate  heart.  It  had  been  stolen  from  them  by  this 
intriguing  thief — she  could  call  her  by  no  better  name. 
And  that  her  child  must  take  Sherburne  House  from  the 
next  favorite,  was  bitter  indeed.  She  would  be  honest, 
Miss  Sherburne  said  to  herself.  She  would  make  no  pre- 
tence of  loving  the  child,  but  she  would  do  her  duty 
strictly,  quite  forgetting  how  cruel  a  stepmother  duty  can 
be  when  divorced  from  love. 

It  would  have  gratified  her  and  perhaps  have  rendered 
her  less  rigid  had  Dell  shown  any  elation  over  her  new 
home  and  prospects.  But  that  she  should  want  to  return 
to  the  Murray s  was  the  most  mortifying  lack  of  appre- 
ciation, of  pride  and  family  dignity.  But  she  should\& 
trained  to  respect  it. 

"  Dell's  heart  gave  a  great  bound  when  she  understood 
(hat  she  was  to  be  allowed  the  following  morning  to  go 
over  to  the  Beaumanoir  schoolroom.  Truth  to  tell,  Miss 
Burtis  was  warmly  interested  in  such  an  intelligent  pupil, 
though  she  used  a  great  deal  of  tact.  Dell  being  so  free 
from  personal  vanity  unconsciously  seconded  her  efforts. 
She  still  abhorred  the  French  but  took  great  pains  with 
her  Latin. 

"  Didn't  you  catch  it  on  Saturday  !  "  said  Ned  with  a 
sort  of  triumphant  laugh  as  they  were  coming  downstairs, 
peering  insolently  into  her  eyes. 


120  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

Dell  bestowed  upon  him  a  withering  look  but  uttered 
no  word. 

That  afternoon  her  patience  was  sorely  tried  with  Mr. 
Sterret,  who  came  to  give  her  a  music  lesson.  To  make 
the  matter  more  exasperating  for  Dell,  Miss  Sherburne 
was  present.  She  blundered  horribly.  Her  fingers 
seemed  stiff  and  clumsy,  and  she  became  more  and 
more  confused.  On  the  other  hand,  she  knew  the  letters, 
lines  and  spaces,  and  Mr.  Sterret  did  his  best  to  encourage 
her. 

If  Miss  Sherburne  had  been  hoping  to  invent  some 
particular  torment  for  the  girl,  she  had  surely  found  it 
now.  To  sit  there  and  practice  two  mortal  hours  with 
those  sharp  eyes  upon  her  seemed  to  Dell  the  very  depths 
of  bitter  woe.  What  with  the  music  and  the  sewing  and 
her  lessons,  she  was  allowed  no  time  out  of  doors  save  the 
rides  to  and  fro.  It  seemed  to  her  some  days  that  she 
should  die  of  weariness.  And  the  following  Saturday  she 
was  kept  a  strict  prisoner. 

In  answer  to  Miss  Burtis*  inquiries,  three  applications, 
had  been  made.  Two  were  from  comparatively  young 
women.  The  third  frankly  admitted  her  middle  life  and 
her  experience  and  enclosed  references.  She  had  taught 
fifteen  years  in  a  large  private  school  on  the  confines  of 
Brooklyn. 

"  I  think  I  shall  settle  upon  this  Miss  Hendricks,"  the 
lady  said,  comparing  the  letters.  "  I  want  an  experi- 
enced and  sensible  person,  who  has  some  authority,  and 
is  not  coming  for  the  pure  pleasure  of  the  thing.  I  will 
write  to  her." 

Miss  Burtis  really  felt  sorry  for  Dell  in  the  selec- 
tion. She  had  a  feeling  that  Dell's  training  was  un- 
fortunate. 

For  a  week  there  was  a  sort  of  armed  truce,  and  neither 
party  overstepped  the  bounds.  The  next  had  more 
variety.  The  Beaumanoir  children  were  all  excitement 


BREAD  EATEN  IN  SECRET.  121 

about  their  summering  at  Atlantic  City  where  they  owned 
-a  cottage.  Mrs.  Beaumanoir  was  busy  with  dressmaking 
and  packing,  Violet  had  a  guest,  and  the  excitement  was 
•quite  entertaining  to  Dell.  Oh,  what  would  she  do  when 
she  was  left  alone  with  Miss  Sherburne  ! 

It  was  Saturday  morning  and  Julius  brought  in  the 
mail-bag.  Dell  had  more  than  once  speculated  about 
her  letter.  She  knew  now  that  Miss  Sherburne  intended 
the  parting  between  her  and  the  Murrays  to  be  final,  but 
she  sternly  resolved  to  remember  them  to  her  dying  day. 

Miss  Sherburne  glanced  over  the  letters.  There  was 
one  for  Miss  Lyndell  Sherburne  with  a  New  York  post- 
mark. She  was  so  startled  that  she  held  it  a  full 
moment  before  she  could  decide.  She  could  destroy  it 
— she  certainly  would  not  be  so  dishonorable  as  to  read 
it  first  in  that  case — no  Sherburne  would  be  guilty 
of  such  a  despicable  proceeding.  If  she  gave  it  to 
Dell  she  would  have  a  right  to  insist  upon  seeing  it 
afterward. 

"  Here  is  a  letter  for  you" — and  she  held  it  out  to 
Dell  as  if  it  might  be  contamination. 

Dell's  face  was  scafrlet.  Her  fingers  trembled  as  she 
took  it.  Alarm  was  greater  than  joy.  Almost  she 
•wished  it  had  not  been  written.  Then  a  thrill  of  delight 
succeeded. 

Miss  Sherburne  had  some  that  demanded  her  atten- 
tion. Dell  glanced  up  timidly.  If  she  only  dared  go  to 
her  room.  But  she  opened  it  and  at  Con's  well-known 
hand  a  joyous  smile  illuminated  her  face  : 

MY  DEAR,  DEAR  DELL  :  You  are  a  trump,  a  brick  ! 
plucky  enough  to  be  a  boy  !  I  wish  you  were  here  ! 
Bad  cess  to  the  fortune  that  you  don't  want.  And  as  to 
missing  you,  there's  the  biggest  sort  of  hole  everywhere  ! 
It  doesn't  seem  like  the  same  house.  But  hooray  !  I'm 
in  the  high  school  and  Tess  was  promoted  and  every- 
body bewailed  you. 


122  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

As  for  that  she-dragon — how  you  are  going  to  stand 
the  old  thing  I  don't  know.  I'd  lay  a  powder  train  and 
blow  her  up  some  dark  night !  I'd  make  life  a  burden 
and  death  a  vision  of  joy.  For  maybe  you've  found  out 
that  she  don't  mean  you  to  keep  in  \\ith  us— the  ungrate- 
ful old  cat !  She  told  father  there  must  be  no  letters,  and 
;it  first  he  said  yours  could  not  be  answered.  And  when 
mother  said  a  little  bit  of  a  letter  might  be  written,  Tess 
was  frightened  out  of  her  wits,  and  did  not  dare  under- 
take it,  but  I  beard  the  lion  in  his  den  you  see,  and  me 
name  is  McFergus.  But  we  know  you  can't  forget  us, 
and  some  time  in  the  distant  future  you'll  see  me  march- 
ing in.  Won't  there  be  a  gay  old  time !  Will  she  order 
me  out  with  the  broomstick  ?  But  old  maids  are  simply 
atrocious.  She'll  keep  you  so  tight  and  snug  that  you'll 
never  be  allowed  to  marry,  then  they  can  get  the  fortune 
back  again.  Or  she  may  wall  you  up  in  a  secret  closet, 
or  bury  you  in  a  cellar  vault.  They  used  to  do  fearful 
things  in  slave  times,  and  they're  a  bad  lot  generally. 
I  doubt  if  they've  got  over  their  queer  ways. 

O  Dell,  we  want  you  back.  Life  is  as  empty  as  the 
coal  hod  mother  pokes  at  me.  You  were  the  jolliest  girl 
I  ever  knew.  Make  a  big  fight,  and  if  the  dragon  is 
utterly  horrid  run  away.  We'll  be  glad  to  take  you 
back  and  love  you  with  the  same  old  love — pepper  and 
salt  thrown  in  to  make  it  keep.  And  I'm  just  crazy  to 
hear  again.  Maybe  she  hasn't  laid  down  the  law  of  for- 
getting your  old  friends  to  you.  Would  it  be  too  terrific 
to  smuggle  another  letter?  Mammy  says  it  wouldn't  be 
right.  Maybe  she's  nearer  the  head  centre  of  con- 
science. But  we  send  you  thousands  of  kisses  and  tons 
of  love,  and  shall  never  forget  you.  Yours  to  command 
till  death 

CON  MURRAY. 

She  drew  a  long  breath.  Like  a  delightful  vision  the 
house  in  Murray's  Row  opened  before  her  longing  eyes. 
For  a  moment  she  forgot  her  present  life. 

A  shadow  seemed  to  chill  the  atmosphere. 

"Who  is  your  letter  from?''  seemed  almost  a  knell 
of  doom.  A  cold  stream  ran  down  her  back. 


BREAD  EATEN  IN  SECRET.  1-2S 

"From— from  New  York,"  and  Dell  clutched  it 
tightly,  with  a  quick  shiver. 

"  I  did  not  ask  you  where  it  was  from." 

Dell  started  as  if  she  would  fly. 

"Give  it  to  me,"  said  Miss  Sherburne,  authorita- 
tively. 

Dell's  face  was  scarlet.  Allow  her  to  read  Con's  em- 
phatic strictures ! 

"  It  is  mine.     And  there  will  not  be  any  more  " 

"It  is  not  yours  in  the  proper  sense.  You  are  hold- 
ing a  clandestine  and  forbidden  correspondence  with 
those  detestable  Murray s.  They  have  broken  their 
promise,  but  I  did  not  suppose  they  possessed  any  sense 
of  honor.  You  are  in  my  charge,  and  I  have  a  right  to 
examine  your  correspondence.  If  it  was  an  honorable 
and  commendable  letter,  you  would  not  hesitate. 

Dell's  breath  came  quick  and  hard.  She  saw  the  out- 
stretched hand,  thin  and  long  like  some  ghostly  in- 
truder, threatening  to  grasp  her.  A  cold  shudder  shook 
her. 

She  made  a  sudden  dash  through  the  open  window. 
The  hand  caught  at  her  shoulder,  but  she  jerked  away, 
flew  across  the  porch  and  over  the  lawn,  never  pausing 
for  breath  until  she  was  out  of  sight.  Down  here  was  a 
great  hollow  tree,  the  delight  of  squirrels.  Dell  took  her 
letter  without  rereading  a  word,  tore  it  to  bits  nnd 
dropped  it  in  for  the  denizens  of  the  woods  to  weave  into 
their  beds.  Then  she  walked  slowly  back,  considering  ; 
her  heart  throbbing  at  the  injustice  of  thus  being  cut  off 
from  the  friends  who  had  a  right  to  her  gratitude  and 
love. 

Still,  if  she  had  waited  a  week  she  would  not  have 
written.  She  had  a  sort  of  misgiving  even  then,  she 
remembered.  And  yet  what  gave  Miss  Sherburne  this 
supreme  right  over  her?  If  Dell  only  knew  the  mysteri- 
ous points,  and  how  far  she  had  any  privileges  ! 


124  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

She  returned  boldly.  It  was  better  to  face  the  con- 
sequences at  once.  Miss  Sherburne  sat  there  upright, 
severe,  the  very  lines  of  her  face  repellent  instead  of 
persuasive. 

"  Have  you  concluded  to  obey  my  proper  request?  " 
was  the  austere  demand. 

"  I  can't- — I  have  destroyed  the  letter.  It  had  some- 
thing in  it  for  me  alone.  It  would  not  have  been  fair  for 
me  to — to  —  Dell's  breath  strangled  her. 

"You  are  extremely  conscientious,"  with  cutting 
scorn. 

"I  want  to  tell  you  —  I  wrote  a  letter  first.  I  was 
so  wretched  and  homesick,  and  I  did  not  understand  that 
•we — that  I " 

"  You  miserable,  despicable,  underhand  girl !  You 
are  utterly  destitute  of  honor — as  destitute  as  those  low- 
lived Murray s.  You  have  not  one  virtue  that  goes  to  the 
making  of  an  admirable  character.  Who  mailed  your 
letter?  " 

Dell  was  silent. 

Miss  Sherburne  shook  her  by  the  shoulder. 

.'"'  I  did  not  think  about  it  until  after  it  was  done. 
And  Con  was  sorry,  but  they  all  said  you  had  forbidden 
«ny  writing.  He  coaxed  his  mother,  and  she  consented 
just  for  this  time.  They  will  not  write  again." 

"You  will  not  have  the  letter  if  they  do.  And  I 
trusted  you — but  this  ends  it." 

"  But  there  will  be  no  other  letter,"  Dell  said,  with 
a  touch  of  defiance.  "  This  one  was  my  fault." 

"  Take  that  for  your  insolence." 

There  was  a  stinging  blow  on  Dell's  cheek,  and  she 
turned  with  an  indignant  passion  flaming  from  her 
eyes. 

"  Go  to  your  room  at  once.  You  will  not  leave  it  again 
to-day." 

Dell  did  not  wait  for  a  second  bidding.     She  flew  in  a 


BEE  AD  EATEN  IN  SECRET.  125 

perfect  whirlwind  of  anger.  Once  in  her  own  apart- 
ment, she  stamped  her  foot  on  the  floor — she  would  have 
enjoyed  demolishing  something. 

"  You  are  a  hateful,  mean  old  thing,"  she  cried.  «•  I 
shall  never  be  sorry  again  for  anything  I  do.  And  1 
shall  not  care  how  bad  I  am  or  how  much  I  deceive  you  L 
Luckily  I  have  a  book  up  here  ;  "  and  she  laughed 
scornfully.  "Just  wait  until  I  am  grown.  I'll  have  all 
the  Murrays  here  and  we  will  raise  bedlam  about  your 
ears.  And  I'll  go  up  to  New  York  whenever  I  like. 
Oh,  if  I  could  run  away  !  If  I  was  a  boy  I  could  walk 
and  beg,"  and  she  sighed  over  the  lost  opportunity  to 
distinguish  boyhood. 

A  little  before  noon  she  sat  reading  very  composedly 
when  the  Beaumanoir  carriage  drove  up.  A  tall,  good- 
looking  young  fellow  sprang  out,  then  a  slim,  graceful 
girl,  Violet  and  Cecil. 

"  That  must  be  Leonard,"  she  said,  with  a  new  in- 
terest. He  had  dark,  curling  hair  and  a  bright  com- 
plexion ;  a  pleasant  voice  and  laugh. 

"  Dear  Aunt  Aurelia,"  he  cried.  "You  do  look  worn. 
I  have  been  hearing  about  this  new  importation.  Was 
she  very  fresh  from  the  bogs? — or,  let  me  see — it's  squat- 
ter sovereignty  up  there  in  New  York.  Did  you  find 
her  driving  the  geese  or  tending  the  goat,  and  is  her 
brogue  very  decided  ?  " 

Dell  did  not  catch  the  answer,  but  her  face  was  in  a 
flame  again.  The  reply  was  low,  all  the  voices  were 
lower  indeed.  Perhaps  they  left  her  for  more  genial 
topics.  Pleasant  laughs  floated  up  to  her.  Then  they 
went  in  to  dinner. 

Hers  was  sent  up  to  her.  If  Cassy  suspected  the 
books  were  contraband,  she  was  discreetly  blind.  She 
had  come  to  feel  curiously  sorry  for  Dell,  and  yet  she 
blamed  her  too.  She  was  too  outspoken,  too  uncom- 
promising. Her  simple  life  had  been  deficient  in  the 


126  SHEPBURNE  HOUSE. 

training  that  prepares  one  for  emergencies,  and  tact  did 
not  come  naturally  to  her. 

In  truth  her  heart  was  filled  with  bitterness  as  she  ate 
her  bread,  thinking  of  the  table  downstairs,  the  deli- 
cacies and  the  fruit,  while  hers  seemed  indeed  prison 
lure.  They  were  feasting,  they  came  here  and  had  the 
best  of  everything,  while  she,  the  true  mistress,  had  no 
rights. 

Suddenly  an  exultant  thought  stirred  her  soul. 

Sherburne  House  was  hers.  She  had  been  wild 
enough  to  plan  restoring  it  to  her  cousin,  but  now  a  dif- 
ferent resolve  awoke  within  her.  No,  he  should  never 
have  it.  And  when  she  was  grown  they  should  not 
come  here  at  all. 

She  remembered  there  was  a  dish  of  fruit  in  Miss 
Sherburne's  room.  She  darted  out  of  her  window  in  a 
sort  of  insolent  glee,  and  into  the  other,  picked  out 
some  of  the  choicest  pears  and  nectarines,  and  stole 
back  again,  enjoying  her  feast  without  a  bit  of  com- 
punction ;  she  who  a  month  ago  would  have  asked 
Mamma  Murray  for  the  merest  thing. 

They  all  went  into  the  cool  parlor  after  dinner.  Dell 
grew  drowsy  over  her  book  and  fell  fast  asleep.  The 
lawn  was  largely  in  shade  and  the  breeze  much  cooler 
when  she  was  roused  by  Cassy  calling  her  name. 

"Miss  Dell,"  she  said,  "you  may  be  dressed  and 
<:ome  downstairs." 

Dell  rubbed  her  eyes  and  glanced  around. 

"  I  am  to  stay  here  all  day,"  she  said  stiffly.  "  Miss 
Sherburne  shall  see  that  I  can  obey  to  the  letter.  No, 
don't  come  near  me!  Don't  dare  to  touch  me.  I  will 
not  be  dressed  and  shown  ,up  like  a  wild  beast,"  she 
•declared  tempestuously. 

Cassy  looked  at  her  gravely,  "Miss  Dell,"  she  said, 
"  if  I  were  you,  I  should  be  glad  of  an  opportunity  of 
getting  back  so  easily.  Miss  Sherburne  was  very  angry 


BREAD  EATEN  IN  SECRET.  12T 

this  morning,  but  young  ladies  do  not  write  letters  with- 
out any  check  or  guard.  And  when  you  had  been  for- 
bidden  " 

"  I  wasn't  forbidden  until  afterward." 

"  But  you  kept  it  quite  to  yourself." 

"  And  I  shall  keep  anything  to  myself  that  I  don't 
choose  to  tell,"  was  the  defiant  answer. 

"And  Miss  Sherburne  found  out  who  took  the  letter. 
If  Julius  should  do  such  a  thing  again  he  will  be  dis- 
charged." 

Dell  was  raging  with  anger  but  she  shut  her  lips  with 
an  unpleasant  firmness. 

"  Come,  Miss  Dell " 

"  I  am  not  going  downstairs,  Cassy.  I  will  not  go 
down  to  be  looked  over  and  sneered  at.  I  heard  Mas- 
ter Leonard,  as  you  call  him,  ask  how  much  brogue 
I  had  ;  "  and  in  spite  of  anger  the  tears  flooded  Dell's 
eyes. 

"  But  Miss  Milly  wishes  to  see  you.  You  cannot  help 
liking  her." 

"  Then  I  will  not  go  for  that  reason.  I  do  not  want 
to  like  any  of  them." 

In  vain  Cassy  persuaded.  Dell  was  resolute.  So  the 
handmaid  left  her  to  herself.  No  one  came  near  her. 
No  supper  was  sent  up  to  her.  Downstairs  some  one 
played  beautifully,  and  there  was  singing  that  moved 
Dell  to  tears,  almost  broke  her  heart.  She  felt  so  des- 
olate and  forlorn,  and  presently  cried  herself  to  sleep. 
When  she  finally  roused,  the  house  was  still  and  dark. 

Miss  Sherburne  took  no  further  notice  of  her  than  to 
call  her  the  next  morning.  She  went  to  church.  Dell 
sat  on  the  veranda,  and  studied  "my  duty  to  God  and 
my  duty  to  my  neighbor,"  and  Miss  Sherburne  branched 
into  a  short  lecture.  But  there  was  not  even  the  walk 
with  Cassy.  It  seemed  19  Dell  that  she  would  fly  in 
pieces. 


12H  SHERBUENE  HOUSE. 

Miss  Hendricks  was  to  come  on  Tuesday.  Dell  was 
glad  and  thankful,  for  Monday  seemed  the  longest  day 
she  had  ever  known. 

Miss  Hendricks  was  not  the  kind  of  a  woman  to  win  a 
child's  favor  at  a  glance.  She  was  forty  or  thereabouts, 
a  rather  sharp-featured  person  who  wore  near-sighted 
glasses  over  prominent  bluish-black  eyes.  She  had  a 
thin  metallic  voice,  and  an  extremely  straightforward 
manner.  Miss  Sherburne  thought  her  admirably  calcu- 
lated for  her  position,  and  her  pupil.  She  explained  at 
some  length  Dell's  character,  and  the  disabilities  as  she 
considered  them. 

"She  has  had  no  sort  of  training.  And  you  cannot 
allow  her  to  go  unwatched  a  moment." 

Miss  Hendricks  had  already  a  wide  experience  with 
girls — some  quite  unmanageable  ones.  She  felt  herself 
«qual  to  any  emergency,  yet  she  hardly  counted  on  hav- 
ing a  savage  to  tame. 

"  Your  governess  has  arrived,"  Miss  Sherburne  an- 
nounced to  Dell.  "I  wish  you  to  consider  these  weeks 
quite  in  the  light  of  a  punishment.  There  was  no  reason 
why  you  should  not  join  your  cousins  for  their  summer 
holiday,  boating,  bathing  and  amusing  yourselves,  ex- 
cept that  you  are  too  lawless,  too  insolent  and  untrust- 
worthy, to  say  nothing  of  your  deceit  and  your  passion- 
ate temper.  You  would  prove  a  disgrace  to  any  well- 
regulated  household.  And  you  are  so  deficient  in  the 
\isual  attainments  of  children  of  your  age  that  you  have 
not  a  day  to  lose." 

Dell  winked  a  suspicious  moisture  from  her  eyes,  and 
her  whole  soul  protested  against  this  sweeping  denuncia- 
tion. It  was  so  terribly  untrue.  Why,  in  some  branches 
she  stood  on  a  par  with  Violet.  And  no  one  had  ever 
considered  her  so  base  before.  She  felt  the  injustice 
keenly. 

She   and    Miss    Hendricks    eyed   each   other   warily. 


BREAD  EATEN  IN  SECRET.  129 

They  went  to  the  schoolroom,  and  after  putting  a  few 
questions  the  teacher  found  her  pupil  not  quite  be- 
nighted. Then  they  returned  to  the  parlor  and  the 
piano,  and  Miss  Hendricks  seated  herself  near  by. 

The  fingering  was  the  burthen  of  Dell's  life.  Mr. 
Sterret  was  very  particular,  and  as  yet  it  was  a  torment 
to  her.  Absolute  rhyme,  rather  than  rhythm,  was  her 
delight.  If  she  only  dared  pick  out  a  tune,  but  her 
one  attempt  had  called  down  Miss  Sherburne's  wrath. 

Certainly  the  child  had  a  rough  sort  of  perseverance. 
And  she  was  not  the  ignoramus  she  had  been  repre- 
sented. 

"Stop  and  rest  your  hand  a  little,"  said  Miss  Hen- 
dricks. "You  play  by  main  strength  and  tire  yourself. 
Tell  me  where  you  went  to  school  in  New  York." 

Dell's  face  warmed  to  a  pleasant  surprise  as  she  an- 
swered quite  at  length. 

"  Did  you  like  mathematics?" 

"Oh,  so  much,"  cried  Dell  eagerly.  "And  history 
and  philosophy  and  physical  geography." 

"  And  the  languages — are  you  interested  in  them 
now  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  really  mind  the  Latin.  Some  words  have 
such  a  grand  sound.  But  the  French  I  hate  !  "  viciously. 
"  And  how  one  is  ever  to  twist  up  one's  lips  and  talk 
through  one's  nose  and  give  it  a  twang — I  don't  try,  I 
never  shall." 

"That  is  an  excellent  reason  for  the  failure,  but  not 
so  good  a  reason  for  the  pupil.  And  about  the  music?'" 

"  Oh,  if  I  could  really  play  !  But  to  have  your  fingers 
and  thumbs  chasing  up  and  down  the  keys,  getting  in 
each  other's  way,  tumbling  and  sprawling  about,  is  so 
ridiculous!  I  can  never  learn;"  in  despair,  with  a 
curious  latent  satisfaction  that  betrayed  her  obstinacy. 

"  Now  begin  again.  Lightly— a  skip  rather  than  the 
thud.  That  is  better." 


130  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

Dell  smiled  a  little  and  really  tried.  It  was  pleasant 
to  have  a  human  being  near  who  could  tell  you  what  to 
do  without  incessant  faultfinding. 

Whatever  romance  Miss  Hendricks  might  have  enter- 
tained about  teaching  in  the  earlier  days  had  died  out 
completely.  It  was  now  a  mere  matter  of  business. 
Her  present  aim  was  to  save  up  money  enough  to  live 
upon  comfortably  as  she  neared  sixty.  She  had  two 
married  brothers  and  one  sister,  with  families  of  children 
who  rather  derided  their  old  maid  aunt,  with  the  careless 
audacity  of  youth.  Moulding  and  shaping  young  minds 
and  souls,  and  glorious  opportunities  to  tram  them  to 
noble  ends,  no  longer  stirred  her.  She  was  hired  at  so 
much  a  year  to  teach  a  certain  amount  of  knowledge, 
even  if  it  took  a  sort  of  mental  surgical  skill  to  apply  it. 
And  she  was  successful,  more  so  than  many  with  higher 
aims.  Her  class  was  always  ready  for  promotion. 
Rigid  as  she  was  in  outward  observance  of  rules,  she 
had  a  certain  versatility  in  her  methods  that  brought 
about  the  desired  results. 

She  had  come  to  Sherburne  House  simply  for  the 
opportunity  of  devoting  six  weeks  to  earning  money 
instead  of  spending  it.  She  would  have  a  change  ; 
and  surely  teaching  one  child  could  not  prove  a  severe 
drain. 

If  there  had  been  a  little  enthusiasm,  a  little  care  for 
higher  claims  of  human  souls,  Dell  might  have  improved 
rapidly.  But  Miss  Hendricks  soon  learned  that  appre- 
ciation of  the  child  was  not  the  way  to  the  favor  of  the 
Mistress.  Since  her  being  here  was  only  incidental,  she 
would  not  espouse  either  side,  and  she  could  be  severely 
non-committal. 

They  began  lessons  the  next  morning,  An  hour  in 
the  afternoon  was  to  be  devoted  to  French.  And  even 
here  Miss  Hendricks  managed  to  be  interesting.  She 
related  a  bit  of  French  history,  an  anecdote  of  some 


BREAD  EATEN  IN  SECRET.  131 

heroic  person  that  roused  Dell  to  desire  a  nearer  ac- 
quaintance. 

Every  afternoon  they  took  a  walk.  Certainly  Miss 
Sherburne  was  greatly  relieved,  and  yet  curiously  dis- 
satisfied. There  was  no  complaint  of  Dell.  She  was 
grave  and  orderly  at  the  table.  She  attended  to  her 
duties  and  made  no  trouble. 

As  they  came  back  from  their  walk  one  afternoon  she 
saw  the  veranda  full  of  the  Beaumanoir  family.  There 
had  been  considerable  coming  and  going,  but  now  they 
were  here  to  tea  evidently. 

Dell  drew  Miss  Hendricks  around  to  the  side  porch. 
All  her  old  belligerency  that  had  somehow  subsided  was 
roused  in  a  moment. 

Cassy  was  in  her  room  waiting  for  her.  A  white  dress 
and  sash  were  laid  out  on  the  bed. 

"  O  Cassy,"  she  cried  beseechingly,  "  must  I  go 
•down  ?  I  would  rather  be  shut  up  in  my  room." 

"  Miss  Dell,  please  don't  make  any  trouble,"  entreated 
Cassy.  "  They  are  all  going  to-morrow  and  you  won't  see 
them  again  for  two  months  or  so.  And  now  when  every- 
thing is  running  smoothly " 

Dell  submitted  ungraciously.  The  bright  face  clouded 
•over  and  settled  into  repellent  lines. 

However,  the  supper  bell  rang  just  as  she  was  ready 
to  go  downstairs.  She  was  briefly  introduced  to  the  two 
cousins  she  had  not  seen.  Mr.  Beaumanoir  nodded 
kindly  to  her. 

The  conversation  was  principally  about  the  summer 
exodus  and  Mrs.  Lepage's  being  abroad.  The  two  sons 
were  to  join  their  cousins  at  Atlantic  City ;  Major  and 
Mrs.  Stanwood  were  expected  from  the  West  late  in 
the  season,  and  there  seemed  a  prospect  of  much 
visiting  at  Sherburne  House.  Nothing  took  in  the 
little  heiress,  sitting  quietly  at  her  supper.  Her  own 
loneliness  touched  her  with  a  keen  bitterness  and 


132  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

brought  the  contrast  with  the  joyous  meals  at  the 
Murrays. 

"Do  you  have  to  go  back  to  your  room?"  asked 
Frances  pertly  as  they  went  through  the  hall. 

"  Not  if  she  behaves  properly,"  said  Miss  Sherburne 
at  her  very  elbow.  "You  children  may  go  out  on  the 
lawn." 

"  Do  you  like  your  new  governess?"  was  the  next 
query. 

"  Yes  ;"  laconically,  her  pulses  rising  in  tumult. 

"  I  shouldn't.  She's  awful  cross  looking.  Auntie 
said  it  was  a  punishment.  You  might  have  gone  with 
us,  for  you  are  our  cousin ' ' 

"  I  don't  want  to.  I  wouldn't  for  the  world  !  "  flung 
out  Dell  savagely. 

"You  have  never  been  to  Atlantic  City  in  your  life. 
And  those  Murrays  did  not  own  a  boat !  " 

Frances  had  hit  both  facts  correctly. 

"  I  have  been  to  other  places,"  said  Dell  sharply. 

"Where?" 

"  I  don't  choose  to  tell  you." 

"  Hillo  !  "  cried  a  laughing  voice.  "  Let  me  into  the 
thick  of  the  fray.  Come  out  here,  I  want  to  inspect  you, 
my  new  cousin,"  and  Leonard  Beaumanoir  threw  his 
arm  about  Dell.  "  I  want  to  see  what  kind  of  an  unre- 
generate  savage  you  are  !  You  are  pretty  solid,  any- 
how." 

Dell  made  a  strenuous  effort  to  release  herself,  but  the 
clasp  had  a  power  beyond  her. 

"  You  are  my  prisoner,  and  I  am  the  strongest,"  with 
a  light  laugh,  as  he  glanced  down  into  her  eyes,  gleam- 
ing with  passionate  fire.  "Why,  you  look  as  if  you 
could  eat  a  body  !  /  ought  to  do  the  hating.  I  am  the 
one  who  has  lost  his  castle  in  Spain,  his  Fortunatus 
purse,  who  has  been  despoiled,  who  sits  in  the  ashes 
of  undying  regret  because  you  rose  up  from  the  nether- 


BREAD  EATEN  IN  SECRET.  133 

most  world.  And  if  I  am  generous  enough  to  forgive 
you " 

"  I  don't  ask  you  to  forgive  me,"  cried  Dell,  with  ill- 
suppressed  fury.  "  I  did  not  want  to  come  !  I  hate 
Sherburne  House  !  But  it  never  was  yours.  It  was 
my  own  papa's  !  " 

"  Well,  you  stood  in  the  way.  And  I  take  it  philo- 
sophically while  you  go  into  a  tearing  passion,"  he  re- 
joined, with  tormenting  coolness. 

1 '  I  wanted  to  give  it  back  to  you  at  first.  I  asked 
papa  Murray  if  I  could  not.  Then  I  should  have  stayed 
with  them.  But  now  you  shall  never,  never  have  it.  I 
would  " — how  could  she  destroy  it? — "  I  would  burn  it 
down  first !  " 

"  Whew  !  If  you  haven't  a  temper  !  Why,  I  do  not 
know  as  you  are  safe  to  be  at  large.  Is  it  your  fiery 
golden  hair,  or  your  race " 

"I  am  not  Irish!"  cried  Dell  wrathfully,  "but  I 
know  of  some  Irish  people  I  love  a  million  times  better 
than  I  could  love  any  of  you  !  And  my  own  mamma 
was  an  Englishwoman." 

".How  did  you  come  by  the  temper?  " 

Fanny  giggled.  Dell  made  a  tremendous  effort  to 
free  herself.  Millicent  came  toward  them. 

"  Leonard,  don't  torment  the  poor  child,"  she  en- 
treated. 

"Poor  child!  Well,  that  is  good.  The  richest 
heiress  in  the  county.  We  were  discussing  the  nature 
of  the  feud  between  the  Montagues  and  the  Capulets. 
Upon  my  word,  I  don't  envy  Aunt  Aurelia  such  a  ter- 
magant." 

Millicent  took  her  hand.  "  Let  her  go,  Leonard,"  she 
said  imperatively. 

"  I  haven't  inquired  into  the  strawberry  mark.  What 
if  she  should  turn  out  an  impostor?  " 

This  time  Dell  wrenched  herself  free.     The  violence 


134  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

sent  her  into  Millicent's  amis  with  such  force  that  the 
elder  staggered.  But  the  arms  closed  about  Dell,  who- 
gave  one  long,  shuddering  sob. 

"My  dear  child — "  and  the  voice  was  softly  per- 
suasive. 

But  it  was  too  late  for  Dell  to  accept  the  olive-branch. 
She  stood  up  straight,  her  eyes  flashing,  her  face  set  with 
bitter  determination. 

"I  know  you  all  hate  me,"  she  cried  passionately. 
"  And  I  hate  you.  When  I  am  a  woman  not  one  of  you 
shall  enter  Sherburne  House." 

Then  she  ran  swiftly  indoors,  up  to  her  own  room,  tore 
off  her  dress  with  frantic  haste  and  made  one  plunge  into 
the  bed  lest  she  should  be  sent  for.  It  was  not  the  first 
time  she  had  forgotten  her  prayers. 

Ned  came  up  to  the  veranda  with  an  account  of  the 
fray. 

"  I  am  thankful  she  had  the  sense  to  go  to  her  room," 
said  Miss  Sherburne.  "  What  a  dreadful  trial  that  child 
will  be  3  "  The  tears  fairly  came  into  her  eyes. 

"  You  must  send  her  away,  that  is  all  about  it.  The 
idea  of  threatening  to  burn  the  house  down !  Why  it  is 
not  safe  to  have  her  here.  How  is  the  governess  ? ' ' 

"  She  manages  her  admirably.  I  really  thought  she 
had  begun  to  improve.  O  Laura,  if  I  could  only  find 
some  trace  of  Edward  in  her !  He  was  such  a  sweet- 
tempered,  agreeable  child,  always  doing  the  things  that 
pleased  you.  Sometimes  I  am  quite  certain  she  cannot 
be  his  daughter." 

Miss  Sherburne  wiped  her  eyes.  She  was  deeply, 
terribly  disappointed.  Seeing  Millicent  had  brought  a 
vision  of  what  such  a  daughter  would  be  to  Sherburne 
House.  And  there  was  no  hope  of  it. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE   LONG,    LONG   THOUGHTS   OF   YOUTH. 

Miss  SHERBURNE  was  away  nearly  all  of  the  next  flay. 
She  was  more  austere  and  distant ;  chilly  to  the  girl, 
whom  she  gave  mostly  over  to  the  governess.  And 
though  Miss  Hendricks  was  rather  rigorous,  she  was  not 
a  hard  taskmistress.  Dell  was  bright  and  eager  on  most 
days,  but  there  were  times  when  she  tried  even  her 
trained  patience.  She  could  not  understand  that  Dell 
studied  from  a  kind  of  feverish  activity  because  there 
was  nothing  else  to  interest  her  restless  mind.  Then  she 
dropped  down  from  sheer  weariness  of  heart  and  brain, 
the  despair  that  comes  with  utter  isolation  from  proper 
companionship.  There  were  times  when  she  wanted  to 
run  and  scream,  to  climb  trees,  to  race  with  the  squirrels, 
to  wade  in  the  brook!  She  envied  the  little  darkies  at 
the  quarters,  she  longed  for  a  glimpse  of  Lizzy  with  a 
tormenting  passion  that  almost  led  her  to  disobey. 

She  took  walks  with  Miss  Hendricks,  but  that  person 
•was  not  fond  of  country  ways,  and  had  a  fear  of  freed 
slaves  rambling  around  lawlessly.  Occasionally  they 
drove  out  with  Miss  Sherburne. 

She  could  talk  about  New  York  when  they  were  alone, 
a  sort  of  sweet,  sad  gratification.  How  she  longed  lor 
it !  If  she  were  only  a  boy,  and  could  start  off  on  a 
tramp  !  She  dreamed  it  over.  She  familiarized  herself 
with  every  step  of  the  way.  The  through  route  passed 
some  twenty  miles  eastward.  The  branch  road  had 
stations  all  along.  There  was  one  reached  by  a  short 
135 


136  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

cut  through  the  woods.  Of  course  a  boy  running  away 
would  take  that  direction. 

Ah,  if  she  only  had  some  money  she  might  try  it.  The 
thought  was  exhilarating.  She  would  be  brought  back 
— locked  up — perhaps  then  sent  to  school.  She  had  a 
feeling  that  the  Murrays  would  not  consider  it  quite  the 
right  thing,  but  she  would  see  them  and  there  would  be 
all  the  fun  and  excitement.  Alas !  She  had  only  two 
dollars  and  ten  cents.  There  was  no  way  to  earn  money, 
and  no  one  to  give  her  any.  Perhaps  at  Christmas — but 
that  was  a  long  distance  to  look  ahead. 

Oh,  how  could  she  endure  years  and  years  of  this 
awful  life  !  And  when  the  Beaumanoir  children  were 
home  it  was  worse.  Frances  was  so  tormenting.  And 
Ned  was  a  sneak.  She  was  quite  sure  of  that.  Oh,  if 
Con  could  only  punch  his  head  once  ! 

So  the  days  went  on  wearily.  And  one  afternoon 
when  they  had  decided  to  go  into  town,  Dell  was  saucy 
about  something  and  left  behind  in  Cassy's  charge. 
She  had  not  been  there  since  the  day  of  her  first 
coming. 

She  sat  on  the  porch  with  a  double  portion  of  French 
verbs  that  were  seasoned  with  bitter  tears  ;  the  droning 
hum  of  the  bees,  and  the  slowness,  but  alas  not  the  sweet- 
ness of  honey  ;  the  soft  winds  that  relaxed  every  pulse,  and 
made  her  feel  weak  and  drowsy  until  her  mind  wandered 
with  no  purpose  or  energy.  What  made  life  seem  such 
a  burden?  Would  she  ever  be  a  glad,  bright  girl  again, 
pleased  with  everything  ? 

Some  one  came  up  the  path  on  horseback.  She  rec- 
ognized the  thin  gentlemanly  figure,  the  long,  pale,  pic- 
ture-like face,  though  this  warm  afternoon  it  had  a  tint 
of  color.  She  had  only  seen  Mr.  Whittingham  twice 
since  the  journey,  and  then  merely  to  speak.  Now  she 
ran  down  the  steps  eagerly,  glad  of  anything  to  break 
her  sombre  thoughts. 


THE  LONG,  LONG  THOUGHTS  OF  YOUTH.    137 

"  Ah,"  he  said,  dismounting  and  giving  her  his  hand. 
41  Are  you  quite  well  ?  You  look  rather  pale." 

"  Do  I  ?  Well,  I  am  always  too  red.  And  I  hope  I 
shall  grow  thin  some  time." 

He  smiled.     "  Now,  /  am  hoping  to  grow  stouter." 

"  It  would  improve  you,"  she  said,  with  the  frank  di- 
rectness of  a  child,  that  amused  him  greatly.  "They 
are  all  out,"  she  announced  as  Julius  led  his  horse 
away. 

"They  ?  "  inquiringly. 

"  Miss  Hendricks — did  you  know  I  had  a  governess  ? 
And  Miss  Sherburne.  They  have  gone  into  town." 

"  Yes  " — in  answer  to  her  first  query.  "  Do  you  make 
life  a  burthen  to  her  ?  It  is  about  another  governess  that 
I  have  come.  We — that  is,  my  sister — heard  of  an  oppor- 
tunity." 

"  I  want  to  go  to  school.  Are  you  really  my  guardian, 
and  can't  you  do — "  hesitating. 

"  My  powers  are  somewhat  limited.  Still,  I  have  pro- 
posed the  school.  Your  aunt  objects." 

"  I  should  think  she  would  be  glad  to  get  rid  of  me. 
Do  you  know  they  all  hate  to  have  me  here?  " 

He  stared  in  amazement.  "You  should  not  make 
such  an  assertion,"  he  said  gravely. 

She  laughed  defiantly.  "Oh,  but  I  know."  Then 
her  brow  knit  thoughtfully.  "  Will  you  please  tell  me 
if  Miss  Sherburne  must  live  here  always — even  when  I 
am  a  woman  ?  " 

"  She  has  what  is  termed  a  life  right  in  the  place.  It 
•was  an  old-fashioned  way  of  eking  out  a  daughter's  por- 
tion. So,  of  course,  she  can  live  here  as  long  as  she 
chooses.  And  she  has  never  known  any  other  home. 
You  surely  wouldn't  want  to  turn  her  out  if  you 
could." 

Put  in  that  light,  Dell  felt  that  she  could  not  even  turn 
an  animal  out  homeless. 


138  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

"  I  hope  you  are  getting  quite  domesticated.  Do  you 
not  like  it  here?  " 

"  No,  I  don't,"  replied  Dell  frankly. 

"  But,  at  least 

"  And  when  I  am  grown,  I  shall  go  away.  I  will  not 
stay  with  her.  How  rich  am  I  ?  Leonard  said  I  was 
the  richest  girl  in  the  county." 

"  You  will  be  rich  enough  to  go  anywhere.  But  I 
hope  then  you  will  desire  to  remain."  This  was  rather 
uncomfortable  ground.  He  picked  up  her  book  and 
asked  if  she  liked  to  study. 

"Sometimes,"  she  answered  laconically,  as  her  eyes 
followed  the  swift,  brilliant  dazzle  of  a  fire  bird  as  he  cut 
the  air.  Ah — if  she  had  wings.  Somewhere  she  had 
read  : 

I  would  I  were  a  bird  or  bee, 
Or  anything  that  I  am  not, 

and  she  elected  to  be  the  bird. 

Such  a  soft,  wistful  tenderness  flooded  her  eyes.  He 
remarked  then  how  clear  and  beautiful  they  were.  He 
had  seen  them  under  rather  wretched  auspices,  swollen 
with  weeping  and  set  in  red  rims,  with  flushed  cheeks 
beneath  them.  Had  she  improved?  She  was  not  so 
very  plain.  Her  complexion  was  fine,  rather  pale  now, 
and  her  mouth  dimpled  at  the  corners  very  easily. 

"  About  the  governess  ;  do  you  like  her  ?  " 

"I  suppose  she  is  well  enough.  But  Miss  Burtis  is 
nicer,  only  I'd  rather  have  kersM  to  myself." 

"  Well,  you  can  have  this  one  all  to  yourself.  She  is 
very  accomplished,  a  Southern  woman.  A  friend  who 
has  been  visiting  us  felt  quite  certain  Miss  Sherburne 
would  be  pleased  with  her.  And  if  you  cannot  go  to 
school — you  zfiV/try  to  be  content?  " 

"  I  am  homesick,  always.    There  is  no  one  to  love  me. 


THE  LONG,  LONG  THOUGHTS  OF  YOUTH.    139 

They  tolerate  me  because  they  must,  but  they  hate  to 
have  me  here.  And  Leonard  said  I  had  taken  the  place 
away  from  him 

"  Had  he  no  better  sense  than  that?"  Mr.  Whitting- 
ham's  placid  temper  was  roused.  "It  never  was  his. 
If  you  had  died,  if  you  should  die  now,  there  is  a  family 
agreement  that  he  shall  have  it.  But  you  will  live  and 
enjoy  it." 

"  I  haven't  cared,  sometimes,  but  I  want  to,  now. 
And  in  eight  years  I  shall  be  free  and  do  just  as  I  like. 
But  oh,  the  months  are  so  long.  I  never  knew  such 
weary  days,"  and  her  voice  saddened  pathetically. 

He  felt  extremely  sorry  for  her.  He  was  unused  to 
girls,  and  he  realized  dimly  how  great  the  change  must 
have  been  to  her.  Down  in  his  secret  heart  he  thought 
it  would  have  been  wiser  to  allow  her  to  correspond  with 
her  old  friends.  To  be  cut  off  from  all  she  had  enjoyed 
must  be  hard  indeed.  There  was  a  long  silence.  He 
did  not  want  to  be  drawn  into  any  unfavorable  comment, 
but  wondered  what  he  could  say  to  comfort  her.  Her 
thoughts  had  run  off  into  another  channel.  In  a  rather 
slow,  speculative  way  she  said  half-inquiringly :  "If 
there  is  so  much  money  it  seems  as  if  I  might  have  a 
little  now." 

"  Does  not  your  aunt  give  you  some  pocket  money  ?  " 

"  No.  Papa  Murray  did,  when  we  had  been  good. 
And  I  used  to  earn  some.  Then  we  could  buy  what  we 
liked  with  that  money." 

"What  would  you  buy  now?"  he  asked  rather 
jocosely. 

"  I  can't  just  tell.  Only  I  would  like  to  have  some.  I 
could  save  it  for  Christmas." 

"  So  you  could,  so  you  could.  I  must  arrange  with 
Miss  Sherburne  for  you  to  have  an  allowance." 

"  But  she  would  keep  that,"  returned  Dell  gloomily. 
"  It  wouldn't  be  any  pleasure  to  me." 


140  SHERBURNE  HOUSE 

"  You  couldn't  tell  me  of  anything  you  would  like  to 
buy?  I  might  bring  it  to  you." 

"  No,"  Dell  answered  with  a  sigh. 

"  Well,  how  much  would  you  like  ?  " 

Dell's  heart  leaped  up  to  her  throat,  and  her  ears  rang 
as  if  she  were  miles  under  the  sea. 

"  You  don't  really  mean —  Then  Dell's  conscience 
smote  her.  After  all  was  she  not  a  miserable,  deceitful 
little  wretch  ?  No,  he  must  not  give  it  to  hei'.  Her  tongue 
seemed  stiff.  There  was  a  constriction  in  her  throat ;  a 
strange  flutter  through  her  pulses. 

Her  emotion  touched  him.  He  took  out  his  wallet  and 
fingered  the  bills. 

V  I  am  going  to  trust  you  to  do  nothing  harmful  to 
yourself,"  he  said  gravely,  "  nothing  that  will  get  either 
of  us  into  trouble,"  and  he  smiled  a  little.  "  It  may  be 
a  pleasure  to  have  it  when  you  are  going  somewhere. 
And  if  it  doesn't  demoralize  you,  another  time  I  may  try 
it  again." 

The  bill  fluttered  to  her  lap. 

"Oh,  thank  you!  Thank  you,  a  thousand  times.  I 
shall  keep  it — until  Christmas,  maybe." 

Just   then   the   carriage,  with  the  two  ladies,  wound 
around    the   drive.     Dell   sat   in    a    sort   of    speechless' 
amazement,  happy  beyond  measure,  then  with  a  secret 
sense  of  guilt.     Her  hand  closed  over  it.     Five  dollars, 
all  her  own ! 

Mr.  Whittingham  rose  and  went  down  to  meet  the 
ladies,  Dell  picked  up  her  book  and  vanished  through  the 
hall,  flying  up  to  her  own  room.  Oh,  she  cmt/dget  enough 
some  time — by  Christmas,  perhaps.  If  she  could  walk 
into  the  old  home  on  Christmas  Eve  !  Ah,  she  could 
fancy  the  shout  of  joy. 

Cassy  came  up  with  Miss  Sherburne's  mantle.  Miss 
Hendricks  looked  in. 

"  How  is  the  French?  "  she  asked. 


THE  LONG,  LONG  THOUGHTS  OF  YOUTH.    141 

"  I  have  been  talking  to  Mr.  Wbittingham,  but  I  will 
finish  it  in  a  few  moments.  Shall  I  come  to  the  school- 
room ?  " 

"  No,  you  will  find  me  on  the  side  porch  with  my 
book.  I  wish  you  could  have  gone  with  us — it  was  very 
entertaining.  And,  Miss  Lyndell,  if  you  only  had  a 
little  more  tact,  you  would  get  on  so  much  better  with 
your  aunt." 

Dell  made  no  reply.  She  was  overjoyed  with  the 
result  of  her  enforced  stay  at  home.  But  what  could  she 
do  with  her  precious  money  ?  She  had  kept  her  two 
dollars  in  various  places,  but  now  that  it  had  increased 
she  must  render  it  doubly  safe,  for  its  loss  would  be  irrep- 
arable. 

Mr.  Whittingham  meanwhile  was  discussing  Mrs.  Fan- 
shawe.  She  had  been  spending  the  summer  abroad, 
having  charge  of  some  young  ladies,  and  would  reach 
home  about  the  middle  of  September.  Her  husband 
had  been  killed  in  the  war.  She  was  about  thirty,  highly 
accomplished,  and  desired  an  engagement  in  a  family 
of  growing  girls.  As  he  had  relatives  in  Washington,  she 
preferred  to  be  as  near  them  as  possible. 

After  Mr.  Whittingham  had  performed  his  duty  to 
Mrs.  Fanshawe  and  his  sister's  conscience,  he  made  a 
very  earnest  plea  that  Lyndell  should  be  sent  away  to 
school. 

"  No  school  that  we  could  approve  would  keep  her 
three  months,"  said  Miss  Sherburne  contemptuously. 
"  She  would  run  away  and  find  refuge  with  the  Murray s, 
or  carry  on  a  clandestine  correspondence  with  them,  such 
as  she  attempted  here.  No,  I  shall  do  my  whole  duty  by 
her,  until  that  is  made  impossible  for  me.  She  is  not  fit 
to  be  trusted  out  of  one's  sight." 

Mr.  Whittingham  hated  to  argue  with  a  lady,  and 
he  felt  assured  that  he  could  not  move  Miss  Sher- 
burne. 


142  SHEEBURNE  HOUSE. 

"  I  suppose  you  will  be  going  away  presently.  You 
surely  do  not  mean  to  keep  her  to  lessons  all  summer  ?  " 

"  She  has  run  wild  long  enough.  Oh,  a  few  lessons 
will  not  hurt  her.  Her  health  is  of  the  rudest  sort.  It 
will  take  years  of  discipline  to  tone  her  down.  I  sincerely 
hope  she  has  not  been  complaining  to  you  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  she  has  not,"  answered  the  gentleman 
warmly.  Then  he  rose. 

"  You  will  surely  remain  to  supper?  ' 

"  Not  this  evening,  my  dear  madam.  I  promised  it  to 
Mrs.  Kirby  and  her  friends.  And  shall  I  say  you  will 
come  over  presently  ?  " 

"  In  a  day  or  two,  yes.  And  I  am  indebted  to  her  and 
to  you  for  this  thoughtfulness." 

"You  will  always  find  me  ready  to  do  whatever  is  for 
the  best,"  said  he  graciously. 

Miss  Sherburne  went  upstairs  when  her  visitor  had 
gone,  firmly  resolved  to  keep  Dell  under  her  own  eye. 
It  was  so  great  a  trial  it  wore  the  aspect  of  a  virtue. 

Dell's  lesson  was  such  a  triumph  that  Miss  Hendricks 
sent  her  out  for  exercise.  She  stationed  herself  on  the 
side  porch,  as  she  had  orders  not  to  lose  sight  of  her. 
Perhaps  she  fell  into  a  reverie,  perhaps  she  had  no 
antipathy  to  violent  exercise.  For  Dell  suddenly  gave 
way  to  an  olden  mood.  She  laughed,  she  ran,  she  even 
indulged  in  a  surreptitious  whistle.  She  swung  her  arms 
and  gave  a  tremendous  flying  leap.  Then  a  wild  breezy 
rush,  until  her  arms  seemed  wings  and  her  feet  light  as 
thistle  down.  Oh,  it  was  glorious! 

Miss  Sherburne  glanced  from  her  window.  Was  that 
Dell,  careering  round  like  a  wild  Indian  when  she  had 
been  forbidden  to  indulge  in  such  pastimes ! 

"  Miss  Hendricks,"  she  said  sharply,  "will  you  go  and 
call  Miss  Lyndell !  One  would  think  she  had  been 
brought  up  among  savages  by  her  antics  down  there  in 
the  grass. ' ' 


THE  LONG,  LONG  THOUGHTS  OF  YOUTH.    143 

Miss  Hendricks  walked  away  slowly,  a  half  smile 
curving  her  lips. 

"  We  shouldn't  suit  in  'the  long  run,'  "  she  thought. 
"A  child  with  that  sort  of  physique  needs  vigorous  exer- 
cise if  you  have  no  gymnasium.  How  fussy  people  do 
grow  !  At  her  time  of  life  one  should  have  nothing  to  do 
with  children." 

"  You  have  made  yourself  red  in  the  face,  Miss  Dell, 
and  oh,  what  a  Medusa  head  ! 

Dell  shook  her  tawny  mane.  "It  doesn't  really 
resemble  snakes,"  and  she  laughed.  "How  curious 
and  delightful  mythology  is!  But  I've  had  such  a  good 
time  !  ' ' 

"  And  your  aunt  saw  you." 

"Who  cares!  Come  down  to  the  brook,  and  I'll 
bathe  my  face  and  have  a  jump  over.  Oh,  do  !  " 

She  did  not  resist  the  eager  voice.  Dell  had  her 
jump — four  of  them,  and  luckily  did  not  splash  in.  She 
wiped  her  face  on  her  handkerchief,  and  the  two  walked 
decorously  back. 

"  I  am  ashamed  of  you,"  declared  Miss  Sherburne, 
who  stood  awaiting  them.  "  Sit  down  here,  and  do  not 
stir  until  supper  time." 

Dell  dreamed  over  the  episode  of  the  afternoon.  Was 
it  really  true  ? 

The  further  tidings  concerning  Mrs.  Fanshawe  were 
eminently  satisfactory. 

"I  shouldn't  keep  such  a  person  as  this  Miss  Hen- 
dricks very  long,  even  if  I  .could.  She  has  no  sort  of 
style,  though  she  is  an  excellent  teacher.  And  Miss 
Lyndell  will  need  a  great  deal  of  training  to  make  her 
presentable." 

"  How  good  you  are  to  take  so  much  pains  with  her," 
sighed  Mrs.  Kirby  softly. 

Miss  Sherburne  had  promised  to  spend  a  week  with 
the  Beaumanoirs.  She  also  wanted  to  go  up  to  Thila- 


144  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

delphia  and  do  some  autumnal  shopping.  Of  course 
Dell  would  run  wild  while  she  was  gone,  but  she  really 
would  not  dare  trust  her  alone  with  Gassy.  Miss  Hen- 
dricks  was  to  go  the  last  of  August.  Her  own  school 
opened  the  loth  of  September. 

Dell  heard  the  tidings  with  outward  gravity,  but  the 
wildest  kind  of  a  heart-beat.  She  really  was  on  her  best 
behavior  for  two  days.  If  she  had  suspected  that  Miss 
Sherburne  almost  decided  to  take  her !  But  she  had  so 
exaggerated  Dell's  boisterous  ways  to  herself  that  she 
felt  she  could  not  endure  the  mortification. 

There  were  charges  innumerable,  "  shall  nots " 
enough  to  fill  twenty  decalogues.  But  at  last  she  went, 
with  a  reluctant  step  and  a  severe  good-bye.  She  needed 
the  change  sorely — her  nerves  had  been  so  rasped  and 
worn. 

There  was  no  difference  in  the  lessons  or  the  music 
practices.  But  there  was  a  walk  or  a  drive  every  day. 
Dell  thought  she  liked  the  walks  best.  And  on  Saturday 
they  followed  the  path  through  the  woods  in  a  northeast- 
erly direction.  The  creek,  which  was  but  a  mere  wind- 
ing thread  down  by  the  house,  widened  out  here,  and  in 
one  place  made  a  sedgy  pond  full  of  watery  growths. 
How  still  and  cool  it  was  ! 

"  Where  does  Sherburne  end?  "  asked  Miss  Hendricks, 
glancing  sedately  around. 

"  Ever  so  far  over.  There  is  a  road  that  goes  on  to 
Croziers — a  station.  The  truck  wagons  use  it,  I  believe. 
And  there  is  a  little  sort  of  hamlet." 

"  Of  poor  whites,  I  suppose.  They  live  on  the  outside 
boundaries.  And  more  must  be  over  to  the  west  there." 

They  asked  Cassy  that  evening.  "The  path,"  she 
said,  "  took  one  over  to  the  road.  Just  below,  another 
branched  off,  and  that  one  led  to  Croziers.  There  were 
a  number  of  stations  before  you  readied  Staunton,  \\liere 
the  branch  connected  with  the  main  line  to  Washington." 


THE  LONG,   LONG  THOUGHTS  OF  YOUTH.    145 

"  I  have  never  been  farther  south  than  Washington 
until  now,"  said  Miss  Hendricks.  "A  place  like  this 
does  well  enough  in  summer,  but  I  like  the  stir  and  en- 
terprise of  Northern  cities.  I  never  want  to  live  very 
far  from  New  York." 

Dell  sighed.  Ah,  if  she  were  only  going  with  Miss 
Hendricks. 

The  next  day  she  studied  up  a  railroad  guide.  Would 
she  dare  the  walk  on  a  cold  winter  day  ?  But  maybe  it 
would  take  her  a  year  to  get  enough  money.  Still  it 
was  a  delightful  air-castle.  And  though  she  would 
surely  be  brought  back,  the  flight  captivated  her  fancy, 
that  had  so  few  real  pleasures  to  feed  upon. 

Didn't  people  sometimes  pray  for  things  they  wanted 
very  much?  She  did  not  stop  to  consider  the  propriety 
of  praying  for  a  thing  she  knew  was  not  quite  right.  She 
thought  over  the  miracles.  People  prayed  for  the  very 
things  they  desired.  Did  they  pray  to  be  made  better? 
Was  it  not  for  sight,  and  life,  and  relief  from  lameness, 
and  physical  good  ?  And  in  story  books  when  people 
were  in  the  last  extremity  of  starvation  or  trouble  or  sor- 
row they  prayed  for  help  or  money,  the  thing  they  most 
needed. 

"  And  I  am  starving  to  see  my  dear  Mamma  Murray," 
she  cried  softly.  "  One's  heart  may  starve  as  well  as 
one's  body.  And  no  one  has  offered  me  a  crumb  of  love 
since  I  have  been  at  Sherburne.  It  can't  really  be 
wrong  to  pray  for  it.  And  if  it  is — why  God  won't  send 
it,"  she  concluded  hopefully. 

How  bright  and  joyous  Dell  had  grown.  Always  a 
smile  and  a  cheerful  word.  Cassy  began  to  doubt  Miss 
Sherburne's  method  of  such  sharp  repression.  She  was 
kindly  indulgent  to  the  Beaumanoir  children,  and  indeed 
all  the  others. 

"  We  can  have  one  more  walk,"  said  Miss  Hendricks 
on  Monday.  "To-morrow  your  aunt  will  be  home. 


146  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

You  deserve  a  good  deal  of  praise  for  your  efforts  at  the 
French,  and  you  do  improve  in  fingering.  You  must 
try  harder  for  the  things  you  do  not  like.  I  have  found 
you  a  much  brighter  pupil  than  I  expected.  I  hope  your 
new"  governess  will  take  a  decided  stand  in  some  mat- 
ters ;  I  should  if  I  were  going  to  stay." 

Dell  thrilled  at  the  words  of  praise. 

"  Oh,  I  wish  you  were,"  she  cried. 

"  I  should  quarrel  with  Miss  Sherburne,  and  be  dis- 
missed. There,  go  for  your  hat." 

Their  walk  was  in  a  southerly  direction  this  time.  The 
ground  rose  gradually — there  was  a  bit  of  mountainous 
ledge.  From  here  you  could  see  the  river  winding  its 
placid  length  in  silvery  curves  ;  the  great  bay  over  east- 
ward, the  dim  suggestion  further  beyond  of  sky  and 
ocean  meeting.  All  the  undulating  country  spread  out 
like  a  panorama.  Famous  battlefields,  cities  arising 
from  their  ruin,  or  new  ones  coming  into  existence,  pros- 
perity where  once  there  had  been  havoc  and  desolation. 

Dell  ranged  like  a  deer.  She  had  two  rather  amusing 
tumbles,  and  tore  her  gown.  Miss  Hendricks  unbent 
from  her  severe  dignity,  for  the  child's  gayety  was  in- 
fectious. Surely  Miss  Sherburne' s  method  was  not  a 
wise  one  for  such  a  temperament.  She  began  to  pity 
Dell  sincerely. 

"  I  don't  know  what  your  aunt  would  say  to  see  you 
now,"  and  Miss  Hendricks  gave  an  amused  laugh.  Her 
hair  was  blown  about,  her  face  and  hands  stained  by 
berry  gathering  and  eating,  and  her  eyes  were  brilliant 
with  enjoyment. 

Even  after  they  reached  home  she  could  not  subside 
into  decorum.  "She  will  have  enough  of  it  after  to- 
morrow," thought  the  governess.  She  did  not  check 
Dell,  as  she  went  dancing  up  and  down  the  paths. 
There  was  no  one  to  be  disturbed  by  her  wild  vagaries. 

The  child  went  hopping  along,  first  on  one  foot  then 


THE  LONG,  LONG  THOUGHTS  OF  YOUTH.    147 

on  the  other  until  presently  she  threw  herself  on  the  soft 
turf  that  was  rich  with  fallen  leaves.  A  little  tuft  of 
something  attracted  her  attention.  Two  or  three  brown- 
red  leaves  clustered  together  like  a  tulip  cup.  A  loose 
greenish  centre  stood  up  waving  its  edges  faintly  in  the 
breeze.  Of  course  it  wasn't  a  flower,  but  it  was  curious. 
She  rose  to  inspect  it.  She  had  examined  so  many 
strange  things  this  afternoon.  No,  it  was  not  a  half  dead 
blossom.  The  leaves  had  whirled  around  until  their 
stems  were  caught  together.  Tangled  with  them  was — 
her  very  heart  stood  still.  Yes,  it  really  was  money. 
Three  five  dollar  greenbacks.  Was  this  a  miracle? 
Had  her  prayer  been  answered  ? 

Dell  dropped  down  on  the  grass  again,  breathless, 
overcome  by  a  strange  bewildering  emotion.  Yes,  they 
were  really  bills.  The  outside  one  felt  soft  and  wet,  as 
it  must  have  been  in  the  dew  overnight.  Had  it  lain 
there  all  day  ?  How  mysterious  that  she  should  have  seen 
it  just  now,  when  she  had  passed  a  dozen  times  that 
way. 

"  .Miss  Lyndell,"  called  a  voice. 

Dell  rose.  Her  limbs  trembled  under  her,  and  she 
felt  dazed.  Could  she  meet  the  glance  of  any  eyes? 

"You  have  been  out  long  enough,"  said  Miss  Hen- 
dricks.  "  I  wonder  that  you  can  stand.  You  will  be  as 
stiff  as  a  post  in  the  morning.  And  you  are  just  in  the 
state  to  take  a  little  cold.  I  should  be  sorry  to  have  you 
suffer  by  my  over-indulgence." 

"  I  am  a  little  tired,"  said  Dell  faintly. 

"  Cassy  had  better  give  you  a  bath  and  put  you  to 
bed.  There,  good-night." 

Dell  drew  a  long  breath.  She  would  feel  better  in 
the  dark  with  her  secret.  Every  nerve  was  quivering. 

She  managed  to  slip  the  money  under  the  pillow  be- 
fore Cassy  entered. 

"Miss    Dell,    what    is  the   matter  with   you?"    the 


148  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

woman  said  presently.  "  You  act  as  if  you  were  be- 
witched. You  have  run  too'much.  I  am  afraid  you  do 
need  Miss  Sherburne's  oversight." 

Dell  endeavored  to  get  herself  under  better  control. 
But  she  was  glad  to  bury  her  flushed  face  deep  in  the 
pillow.  How  wonderful  that  she  and  no  one  else  had 
seen  the  money.  But  she  soon  fell  asleep,  and  no 
thought  of  it  haunted  her  dreams.  Physical  fatigue  was 
a  refreshing  draught. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

BRINGING   A   DREAM   TO  PASS. 

DELL  awoke  with  a  peculiar  impression.  She  seemed 
to  have  been  wandering  in  some  strange  fairyland  where 
all  her  wishes  were  gratified,  where  she  was  loved  and 
caressed.  The  vague  remembrance  puzzled  her.  She 
sat  straight  up  in  bed  and  glanced  questioningly  at  the 
opposite  wall. 

Was  it  a  dream  ?  She  thrust  her  hand  under  the  pil- 
low. There  was  the  roll — three  bills,  rather  musty- 
smelling  and  faded  by  the  damp.  The  winds  might 
have  blown  them  about  anywhere,  the  rains  beaten 
them  to  a  pulp  under  continued  exposure.  It  was 
quite  a  miracle  that  her  eyes  had  been  directed  toward 
them. 

She  sprang  out  of  bed  and  thrust  them  in  the  cover 
of  a  book.  None  too  soon,  for  Cassy  entered  to  perform 
her  toilette. offices. 

"To-day  Miss  Sherburne  comes  home,"  she  ex- 
claimed. "  And  oh,  Miss  Dell,  I  only  hope  matters  will 
go  smoothly." 

Dell  laughed.  She  was  so  light-hearted.  Some  time 
after  breakfast  Miss  Hendricks  was  hunting  around  in  a 
flurried  sort  of  fashion.  "Oh,"  cried  Dell  in  sudden 
agitation,  "  what  have  you  lost?"  Her  heart  sank  like 
lead.  Her  beautiful  miracle  vanished.  She  struggled 
heroically  to  confess— not  merely  that  she  had  found  the 
money,  but  that  she  had  been  base  enough  not  to  return 
it  instantly. 

"  My  paper  knife.  I  used  it  in  the  magazine,  I  am 
149 


150  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

sure.  I  wonder  where  I  can  have  mislaid  it.  I  hate 
slipshod  carelessness  quite  as  much  as  Miss  Sher- 
burne." 

"  Oh,  is  that  all  ?  "  Dell  tried  to  collect  her  scattered 
wits. 

"  Yes,  Miss  Lyndell,  I  am  glad  to  say  that  is  all.  I  do 
not  wish  to  fall  in  Miss  Sherburne's  estimation  for  so 
small  a  thing  as  that.  And  it  was  a  gift  from  one  of  my 
pupils." 

"  Oh,  I  remember  !  "  Dell  ran  swiftly  downstairs. 
Yes,  there  it  lay  with  some  pamphlet  music.  Then  it 
was  not  the  money  !  Was  she  glad  or  sorry  ?  There 
was  a  great  confusion  in  her  mind.  Perhaps  she  .would 
learn  to  whom  it  belonged,  and  be  able  to  return  it. 

"  Here  is  your  cutter.  You  left  it  on  the  piano,"  she 
said,  returning  quietly. 

"  Oh,  yes.     Thank  you.     I  might  have  remembered." 

Dell  stood  there  in  a  curious  mood.  She  ought  to 
tell  some  one  about  the  money.  Her  conscience  was 
uneasy. 

"  There,  I  have  all  my  small  belongings,"  with  a  sigh 
of  relief.  "And  now  it  is  school  time.  Get  your 
French  ;  I'll  give  you  a  day  in,  as  you  are  so  fond  of 
study,"  and  Miss  Hendricks  laughed. 

Dell  was  relieved  to  have  something  to  do.  Her  brain 
was  in  a  ferment,  her  temples  throbbed,  and  she  lost  her 
recent  steadiness. 

"  You  ran  too  hard  yesterday.  Well,  you  shall  be  ex- 
cused a  little.  I  shall  not  be  rigorous  on  my  last  day." 

"If  I  could  only  get  the  little  quips  and  quirls  of 
sound,"  said  Dell,  with  rather  rueful  longing. 

"You  have  done  unusually  well.  You  cannot  get  it 
all  in  six  weeks — some  girls  could  not  acquire  it  in  six 
years.  I  am  afraid  you  have  been  kept  rather  too  close, 
but  as  your  new  governess  cannot  come  immediately, 
you  will  have  a  little  rest.  I  should  like  to  hear  from 


,  JIEIXGIXG  A   DREAM  TO  PASS.  151 

you,  but  I  am  afraid  your  aunt  would  hardly  allow  a  cor- 
respondence. Still  I  shall  often  think  of  you,  and  in 
some  future  time  you  may  revisit  New  York.  I  am  likely 
to  remain  in  Brooklyn  for  years  to  come  ;  so,  if  you  have 
an  opportunity,  hunt  me  up.  I  have  had  a  very  inter- 
esting six  weeks.  And  I  shall  not  preach  you  any  high 
moral  sermons.  When  matters  go  hard  with  you,  have 
patience.  If  you  live,  and  you  seem  to  give  every  indi- 
cation of  that  now,  you  have  an  enviable  future  before 
you.  Try  your  utmost  to  fit  yourself  for  it." 

"  I  thank  you  for  a  great  deal  of — oh,  what  shall  I 
say  ?  "  and  Dell  gave  a  perplexed  smile. 

"Appreciation,"  returned  Miss  Hendricks  decisively. 
"  There  are  a  great  many  people  who  still  think  no  good 
can  come  out  of  Nazareth — that  an  opinion  different  from 
theirs  must  be  wrong.  But  the  world  is  wide,  and  there 
is  room  for  no  end  of  opinions.  It  will  not  injure  you  to 
say  that  you  are  above  the  average  in  scholarship,  ac- 
cording to  modern  methods.  I  am  afraid  you  will  never 
be  a  musical  prodigy,  but  you  may  learn  to  play  well. 
I  do  not  see  any  reason  why  you  may  not  become  a  fine 
linguist.  An  old  Frenchman  said,  '  Everything  comes 
to  him  who  waits ' — I  say  to  the  one  who  works  and 
waits.  There,  I  have  finished,"  and  she  smiled. 

Dell  threw  her  arms  around  Miss  Hendricks'  neck. 
"  I  like  you  so  much,"  she  cried.  "  I  am  so  sorry  you 
are  going.  Oh,  I  do  wish  you  could  stay." 

"I  should  not  agree  with  your  aunt,"  she  returned 
dryly.  "  Now  you  may  go  out  for  a  little  walk,  or 
perhaps  it  would  be  quite  as  well  to  swing  in  the 
hammock." 

There  were  tears  in  Dell's  eyes  as  she  went.  Oh,  if 
Miss  Sherburne  was  going  to  stay  away  a  month  ! 

As  Dell  swung  in  the  green  sunlighted  atmosphere  her 
thoughts  recurred  to  the  money.  Some  one  had  lost  it. 
The  servants  and  laborers  seldom  came  around  to  the 


152  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

front,  or  crossed  the  woods  in  that  direction,  since  they 
had  no  real  business.  If  the  Beaumanoir  family  were  at 
home,  there  would  be  coming  and  going.  If  Julius  or 
Gassy  had  lost  such  a  sum,  or  Cato,  there  must  have 
been  an  inquiry. 

She  had  a  misgiving  that  it  was  her  duty  to  announce 
her  finding  of  it.  Yet  she  had  heard  Miss  Sherburne 
express  such  sweeping  views  of  the  untruth  and  dishon- 
esty of  the  former  slaves  that  she  could  not  be  sure  of 
the  rightful  owner.  Then  she  thought  herself  that  it  must 
have  lain  some  time  in  the  dews  and  damp.  Suppose 
Miss  Sherburne  had  dropped  it  the  day  she  went  away  ? 
She  would  miss  it,  of  course.  It  would  be  better  to  wait, 
and  Dell  resolved  if  she  heard  any  inquiry  she  would 
return  the  money  to  the  spot  where  she  had  first  seen  it, 
and  find  it  anew  in  the  presence  of  Cassy.  That  would 
free  her  from  suspicion. 

Julius  went  after  Miss  Sherburne.  Miss  Hendricks  and 
Dell  sat  on  the  veranda  as  she  drove  up  and  alighted. 
She  greeted  the  governess,  then  she  turned  to  Dell : 

"  I  am  gratified  to  find  you  in  decent  and  respectable 
order,"  she  began  sharply.  "  I  have  half-believed  you 
would  commit  some  wild  and  terrible  escapade  in  my 
absence.  I  hope  Miss  Hendricks  can  give  a  passable 
account  of  you." 

Dell  flushed  angrily.  Even  Miss  Hendricks  was 
roused  to  a  sort  of  indignation  at  the  injustice. 

"  I  can  give  a  very  good  account  of  her,"  she  an- 
swered decisively.  "  And  I  should  be  glad  always  to 
have  pupils  who  would  give  one  as  much  credit  and  as 
little  trouble  as  Miss  Lyndell." 

Miss  Sherburne  swept  through  the  hall  in  her  stately, 
dignified  fashion,  rather  amazed  at  a  reply  that  to  her 
mind  savored  of  impertinence. 

"That  woman  is  the  perfect  embodiment  of  prejudice 
and  injustice.  I  do  sincerely  pity  you,  Lyndell  Slier- 


BRINGING  A    DREAM   TO   PASS.  153 

burne,"  Miss  Hendricks  said  energetically.  "I  like  to 
see  fair  play." 

Dell  sat  in  a  quivering  protest.  She  was  continually 
suspected  of  escapades  then  !  Well,  she  had  been  nurs- 
ing one  that  now  took  definite  shape.  She  hoped  with 
an  eagerness  that  was  almost  prayer  that  no  one  would 
make  inquiries  about  the  money.  If  she  waited  a  fort- 
night she  could  be  quite  sure.  Sitting  there  with  the 
fragrant  air  wandering  about  her  temples  and  gently  lift- 
ing the  rings  of  soft  hair  like  a  caress,  watching  the  sun- 
shine as  it  crept  in  and  out  of  the  dark  pines  and  lighter 
beeches,  ash,  and  maple,  even  the  beauty  of  the  scene 
failed  to  comfort  her.  It  was  her  home,  yet  it  would 
always  be  made  bitter  to  her  while  Miss  Sherburne  lived. 
Never  had  she  experienced  such  an  aversion  to  any  one. 
Miss  Hendricks'  plain  but  sympathetic  face  looked 
beautiful  to  her. 

Certainly  the  atmosphere  of  the  place  was  changed. 
Miss  Hendricks  rather  resented  some  strictures.  She 
could  afford  to  now,  since  she  was  going  to-morrow, 
and  she  positively  enjoyed  one  or  two  cutting  replies. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  she  was  called  into  the  library. 
Dell  sat  out  on  the  veranda  and  could  see  the  picture 
through  the  open  window. 

"  I  have  made  out  your  account  for  the  six  weeks' 
tuition,"  began  Miss  Sherburne.  "Will  you  look  it  over 
and  satisfy  yourself  of  its  correctness?" 

Miss  Hendricks  did  so  and  answered  affirmatively, 
with  a  serene  dignity. 

"  Here  is  your  money.  Sign  this  receipt,  please.  I 
always  do  business  in  a  business-like  manner,  and  Miss 
Lyndell's  expenses  have  to  be  accounted  for  to  her 
guardians." 

Miss  Sherburne  said  this  very  stiffly  and  expressed  no 
sort  of  approval  or  obligation. 

Miss  Hendricks  signed  the  receipt,  counted  her  money, 


154  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

and  acknowledged  the  obligation  with  a  grave  inclination 
of  the  head. 

"  I  trust  you  will  get  suited  without  any  trouble,"  she 
ventured.  "  I  do  not  consider  the  position  at  all  arduous. 
Miss  Dell  i's  an  excellent  scholar." 

"I  should  expect  something  quite  different  for  a  per- 
manency," was  the  caustic  rejoinder. 

Then  Miss  Sherburne  counted  her  own  money  and 
made  a  memorandum.  Surely  she  had  not  lost  any,  com- 
mented Dell  inwardly.  It  would  have  been  announced 
by  this  time.  The  lady  locked  her  desk  and  came  out 
on  the  porch. 

"Do  sit  still!"  she  said  fretfully  to  Dell.  "You 
fidget  and  twist,  and  drop  into  such  awkward  positions. 
I  do  wonder  whether  you  will  ever  be  like  ordinarily  well- 
behaved  girls  !  Lady-like  and  refined  I  never  expect  to 
see  you." 

Dell  flushed  and  her  lips  trembled  with  an  angry 
reply,  but  she  did  not  utter  it.  She  had  philosophy 
enough  to  understand  that  it  would  only  make  matters 
worse.  She  sat  stiffly  upright,  and  watched  the  birds 
flitting  from  tree  to  tree  and  calling  their  mates.  Ah, 
if  she  could  fly  away  some  day.  There  was  an  uneasy 
consciousness  that  she  had  no  right  to  use  the  money, 
even  if  she  kept  it  until  its  rightful  owner  could  be  heard 
from.  And  yet  she  allowed  herself  to  dream  of  glowing 
possibilities  that  lulled  her  conscience. 

The  evening  wore  away  at  length.  Ah,  how  dreary 
and  tiresome  it  was  with  its  sudden  lack  of  buoyancy, 
its  grim,  prison-like  aspect,  its  sense  of  being  chained 
and  suspected — of  what?  Dell  had  an  uncomfortable 
feeling  of  wrong.  There  was  nothing  actively  secretive 
in  her  nature. 

"  Cassy,"  she  said  that  evening,  when  she  was  being 
put  to  bed,  "did  Miss  Sherburne  find  everything  right, 
nothing  lost  or  gone  astray  ?  " 


BSIXGIXG   A   DREAM   TO  PASS.  155 

"  I  don't  know  what  could  go  astray,  Miss  Dell,  except 
you,"  and  Gassy  gave  a  short  laugh.  ••  Maum  Dinah  is 
as  sharp  as  Missus  herself,  when  she's  away.  And  I'm 
sure  I  have  a  feeling  that  her  eyes  are  always  on  me. 
She  could  tell  in  the  dark  if  anything  went  wrong.  You 
have  had  a  little  easier  time — but  perhaps  it  would  be  as 
well  to  keep  that  to  yourself." 

Dell  resolved  to  follow  the  advice  in  all  things.  She 
felt  confident  now  that  the  money  was  not  Miss  Sher- 
burne's,  and  somehow  her  conscience  was  easier. 

There  was  a  soft  summer  rain  the  next  morning,  but 
Miss  Hendricks  bade  them  good-bye  and  started  on  her 
journey.  However,  there  was  to  be  no  holiday  for  poor 
Dell.  She  had  to  bring  her  books  to  Miss  Sherburne's 
room  and  go  over  the  week's  lessons.  There  was  some 
carping  that  exasperated  Dell. 

Indeed,  in  the  days  that  followed,  Dell  lost  all  she  had 
gained  under  Miss  Hendricks'  steady  discipline,  that  was 
equitable,  if  not  indulgent.  The  continual  strictures 
made  her  rebellious  and  saucy.  She  was  kept  in  her 
room  and  allowed  no  walks,  no  diversions.  Another 
punishment  was  to  read  aloud  from  a  book  of  sermons. 
In  her  strenuous  efforts  to  reduce  the  vigorous  girl  to  a 
sort  of  languid,  lady-like  propriety,  Miss  Sherburne  lost 
sight  of  a  proper  regard  for  health.  Dell  began  to  have 
wild,  throbbing  headaches  that  reacted  upon  her  temper  ; 
her  nerves  were  distraught  to  a  point  beyond  endur- 
ance. 

It  was  extremely  trying  for  Miss  Sherburne  as  well. 
A  sense  of  baffled  authority  pervaded  her.  She  brooded 
over  some  sort  of  punishment  that  should  strike  terror  to 
the  heart  of  the  offender.  She  saw  in  her  an  unruly, 
defiant  being  with  no  reverence  for  the  traditions  that 
had  governed  tier  life,  no  spirit  of  meek  obedience  such 
as  she  sought  to  exact.  She  did  not  order  herself  lowly 
and  reverently  to  her  betters.  The  elder's  creed  was. 


156  SHERBURXE  HOUSE. 

that  all  young  natures  should  be  plastic  in  the  hands  of 
those  in  authority  over  them.  There  was  one  unalter- 
ably right  method,  the  training  of  good  birth  and  good 
society,  and  yet,  had  she  considered  her  past  experience 
of  people,  she  must  have  admitted  even  that  did  not  al- 
\\ays  bring  about  the  proper  result.  All  of  Dell's  past 
had  been  wrong,  and  she  believed  she  was  doing  her 
•duty  in  trying  to  uproot  it. 

If  Lyndell  had  possessed  a  more  facile  nature,  a  com- 
pliant sort  of  yielding  under  adverse  circumstances,  her 
path  would  have  been  less  thorny.  But  her  face  too 
often  showed  that  she  obeyed  or  desisted  from  sheer 
necessity.  As  soon  as  she  dared,  she  would  throw  off 
the  restraint.  Her  covert  defiance  seemed  to  say — "  I 
.am  only  biding  my  time." 

Yet  Miss  Sherburne  wrongly  translated  it.  When  this 
audacious  rebel  threw  down  her  arms  and  capitulated, 
she  would  show  her  gentleness  and  mercy,  not  before. 
And  Dell  had  settled  to  the  sad  consciousness  that  noth- 
ing she  could  do  would  please.  She  was  rebellious  and 
exasperating  to  the  last  degree.  And  when  Miss 
Sherburne  found  that  music  practices  could  be  turned  into 
punishment,  she  added  them,  to  Dell's  infinite  disgust. 

On  Thursday  two  friends  of  Miss  Sherburne's  came 
over  to  remain  all  night,  and  to  be  taken  the  next  day  to 
the  house  of  a  mutual  friend,  whither  Miss  Sherburne 
had  planned  to  accompany  them.  The  music  was  too 
annoying,  so  Dell  was  sent  to  her  room.  This  time  she 
had  no  book.  Never  in  her  life  had  any  moments 
seemed  so  long.  Her  head  ached,  her  nerves  were 
wrought  up  to  the  tensest  strain.  She  wanted  to  jump, 
to  scream,  to  defy  everything  and  everybody. 

"  You  will  keep  your  room  all  day,"  announced  Miss 
Sherburne  the  following  morning.  "  You  are  not  to  be 
trusted  an  inch.  Cassy  will  bring  up  your  meals,  and 
^ou  will  take  double  lessons  in  Latin  and  French." 


BRINGING   A    DREAM   TO  PASS.  157 

Then  Dell  blazed  up  in  a  fire  of  passion.  She 
never  remembered  what  she  said,  but  it  was  a  torrent 
of  pent-up  resentment,  bitter  indignation,  and  a  defiant 
cry  for  freedom. 

Miss  Sherburne  was  utterly  astounded. 

"If  you  go  on  this  way,"  she  said  severely,  "you 
will  deserve  to  be  sent  to  some  reformatory.  No  school 
could  be  found  severe  enough  for  such  outrageous  be- 
havior. I  want  you  to  meditate  on  your  shameful  con- 
duct to-day,  and  I  hope  to  find  you  alive  to  some  sense 
of  the  enormity  of  it  when  I  return.  If  not,  I  shall  be 
compelled  to  take  more  stringent  measures  than  any  I 
have  hitherto  employed." 

She  shut  and  locked  the  door.  Dell  was  in  a  fury  of 
passion.  She  kicked  her  books  across  the  room,  she 
tore  her  sewing  to  bits,  and  then  she  burst  into  a  wild 
tempest  of  tears.  What  would  be  done  to  her  ?  She 
might  be  kept  a  prisoner  in  some  out-of-the-way  room. 
She  had  once  overheard  Maum  Dinah  telling  a  frightful 
story  of  a  slave  girl  being  put  in  a  dungeon  where 
the  rats  gnawed  her.  Dell  sank  down,  overcome  with 
terror. 

A  little  bread  and  water  came  up  to  her.  The 
negroes  in  the  quarters  were  reveling  in  fruit  of  all  kinds, 
melons,  great  chunks  of  cake — and  she,  mistress  of  it 
all,  condemned  to  prison  fare  !  It  was  cruel,  past  all  en- 
durance ! 

Oh,  why  should  she  not  escape  ?  There  never  could 
be  a  better  opportunity.  Cassy  had  sat  in  the  adjoining 
room  all  the  morning,  but  she  would  no  doubt  indulge  in 
a  restful  gossip  with  her  dinner. 

Dell  sprang  up.  Yes,  this  was  the  golden  moment. 
She  hurried  off  her  dress  and  put  on  her  fine  grey  cloth, 
thrust  a  few  articles  into  her  satchel,  buttoned  her  boots, 
and  stepped  out  on  the  veranda  roof.  No  one  was  in 
sight.  Squirrels  were  exulting  in  their  freedom,  birds 


158  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

were  carolling  merry  lays.  They  said — come,  come, 
come  !  in  their  gay  invitation. 

She  swung  cautiously  down  the  thick  ladder  of  wisteria 
vine  and  reached  the  ground.  Then  she  ran  like  a  deer 
over  to  the  pine  thicket,  where  she  paused,  out  of  breath 
and  frightened  at  the  swift  result  of  her- daring.  Could 
she  get  away  ?  In  imagination  she  had  taken  the 
journey  many  times.  It  was  to  walk  over  to  Croziers 
and  intercept  the  train.  And  though  her  conscience 
gave  her  a  sharp  twinge  about  spending  money  that  was 
not  really  hers,  she  resolved  to  ask  Mr.  Whittingham  to 
restore  it  fourfold,  when  the  rightful  owner  could  be 
found. 

When  she  had  recovered  her  breath  and  steadied  her 
nerves,  she  began  to  walk  on  with  rapid  steps.  Cassy 
would  hardly  discover  her  absence  until  supper  time. 
She  laughed  as  she  thought  of  their  consternation. 
They  would  suppose  she  had  run  away,  and  search  the 
grounds — she  would  be  safe  in  a  railroad  train  ! 

Oh,  how  lovely  and  cool  and  green  !  She  drew  in 
great  breaths  of  fragrance.  Every  pulse  leaped  with 
joy.  She  even  broke  into  a  snatch  of  song,  then  she 
bethought  herself  that  some  one  might  hear.  She  was 
not  afraid,  but  exulted  in  her  new  found  liberty.  She 
reached  the  place  where  she  and  Miss  Hendricks  had 
paused  in  their  walk,  and  sat  down  to  rest  and  consider. 
Should  she  be  able  to  find  her  way  over  to  the  Forks — 
where  the  roads  diverged  ?  What  if  she  should  meet 
some  one  ?  What  if  she  should  go  wrong  ? 

She  rose  and  went  on  again,  coming  to  a  cart  path 
used  for  hauling  logs.  Some  wood-choppers  had  been 
at  work,  and  her  breath  fluttered  in  frightened  bounds. 
She  crossed  this,  crossed  the  creek  on  the  narrow  and 
uneven  bridge  of  rails,  and  followed  the  footpath 
again.  How  gloomy  it  was!  Not  a  bird's  voice,  only 
the  strident  hum  of  insects.  Would  she  ever  get  to  the 


BRINGING  A   DREAM   TO  PASS.  159 

end  ?     And  oh,  if  she  should  be  late  for  the  train  !  Terror 
lent  her  speed. 

Yes,  here  was  the  open  road — the  boundary  of 
Sherburne.  She  climbed  over  the  rude  brushwood 
fence.  In  the  distance  she  saw  an  ox  team  standing 
still,  and  she  was  thankful  it  was  so  far  behind  her. 
Now  she  must  go  on  to  the  Forks. 

Dell  was  growing  very  tired.  Her  feet  ached,  and 
she  felt  dreadfully  hungry  after  her  light  luncheon.  But 
joy — here  was  where  the  road  branched  off. 

A  woman  in  a  faded  sunbonnet  was  picking  the  last 
shrunken  berries  by  the  wayside. 

"  Is  this  the  road  to  Croziers  ?  "  asked  Dell. 

The  sunbonnet  flapped  affirmatively. 

"  Is  it  far  ?" 

"  Mile  or  two."     The  woman  stared  stolidly. 

Dell  kept  on.  The  road  was  dry  and  dusty,  not  as 
pleasant  as  that  through  the  woods.  Oh,  if  she  did  not 
reach  the  journey's  end  soon  she  should  drop !  How 
strange  it  was !  She  did  not  get  tired  when  she  and  the 
Murrays  went  off  for  a  day's  tramp. 

After  an  endless  while  it  seemed  to  her,  she  came  to 
a  straggling  collection  of  houses.  A  ruinous  old  mill,  a 
sluggish  stream  of  water  and  some  barefooted  children, 
both  black  and  white,  playing  about.  Over  yonder  was 
a  low,  rambling  building  with  a  kind  of  wide  shed.  A 
dozen  or  two  dogs  lay  around  sunning  themselves,  and 
several  men  were  tilted  back  in  rude  chairs,  smoking 
pipes  ;  their  hats  pushed  to  the  back  of  their  heads  so- 
the  flapping  brims  would  not  obstruct  their  view.  A 
dingy  sign  swung  over  a  watering  trough.  There  in 
faded  lettering  was  the  name — "  Croziers." 

Was  this  the  station,  Dell  wondered  ?  Gaining  cour- 
age, she  glanced  around.  The  track  ran  above.  There 
was  a  wide  platform  and  a  small,  rather  official  looking 
place,  that  had  the  air  of  being  more  recent  than  the 


160  SHEBBURNE  HOUSE 

other  dilapidated  buildings.  She  walked  over  with  an 
air  of  assurance.  A  heap  of  negro  boys  lay  half  asleep, 
an  old  white-haired,  very  much  bent  man,  hit  them  with 
his  cane  and  elicited  only  growls.  The  door  stood  open. 
The  name  was  above  it,  "  Croziers. " 

Dell  walked  in.  A  rusted  stove  stood  in  the  centre, 
in  what  seemed  a  great  pan  of  ashes.  A  bench  ran 
along  one  side  and  end,  and  there  were  two  windows. 
A  middle-aged,  extremely  shambling  sort  of  man  sat 
nodding,  and  an  old  negro  woman  was  twisting  herself 
about  in  an  odd  fashion.  Dell  went  over  to  her  with  the 
desire  of  companionship. 

"  Has  the  train  gone  yet  ?  "  she  inquired,  with  a  fear- 
ful heart-beat.  Everything  looked  as  if  it  had  settled 
down  for  a  lifetime. 

"  Ca'as — dat  wot  yo'  mean,  honey?  No,  tank  de 
Lawd,  I'se  gwine  in  'em  if  ebber  I  fin'  dat  ar  quarter. 
De  good  Lawd  he  shorely  ain't  gwine  to  'sart  me  w'en 
I'm  bin  prayin'  stiddy  fur  dat  ar  money."  Then  she 
shook  her  rusty  old  dress,  took  off  a  cotton  bandanna 
pinned  round  her  shoulders,  turned  an  old  frayed  silk 
bag  wrong  side  out  on  the  bench.  There  was  an  old 
pipe  and  some  tobacco,  an  orange,  a  chunk  of  ginger- 
bread, strings,  odd  buttons,  two  handkerchiefs,  and  a 
pin  cushion. 

"Look  a  yeah,  honey,  yo'  eyes  younger'n  mine, 
see'f  you  cayn't  fin'  dat  quarter  rollin'  roun'  de  floor. 
Ef  I  don'  gon'  lost  it  plum  square,  er'  ef  dem  plaguey 
•chillen  steal  it,  den  I  ain't  got  'nuff  to  go  to  my  sis- 
ter's. She's  sick  'n'  sent  fer  me.  An'  I  trus'  de 
Lawd  an'  pray,  an'  dat  ar  quarter  come  like  meracle. 
An'  now  it's  don'  gon'.  I  had  hit  jes'  afore  I  started." 

A  look  of  distress  overspread  her  queer,  wrinkled 
face.  There  was  a  shrill  whistle  in  the  distance,  and 
the  ticket  slide  opened  with  an  explosive  bang.  She 
looked  up  and  began  to  cry. 


BRINGING  A   DREAM  TO  PASS.  161 

"Get  me  a  ticket  to  Junction,"  Dell  said,  "and  get 
your  own  out  of  my  money." 

The  old  woman  shambled  off.  Dell  watched  her  with 
a  misgiving,  but  she  seemed  to  be  competent.  The 
agent  asked  her  a  second  time. 

"A  ticket  fer  Junction  fer  Missy.  An' one  to  Pine 
Creek." 

She  came  back  and  dropped  a  handful  of  change  in 
Dell's  lap  as  the  train  came  steaming  in. 

"  T'ank  ye,  Missy,"  she  said  quaveringly.  "  De  good 
Lawd  he  work  noder  meracle.  He  sen'  you  here  jes' 
like  de  raben  to  'Lijah,  when  I  done  lost  it.'  Oh,  Missy, 
wenebber  yo'  want  anything,  yo'  jes'  pray,  an'  dough  de 
Lawd  he  sometimes  try  yo'  faith,  he  bring  it  roun'  right 
by  de  end." 

Dell  smiled  and  dropped  another  quarter  in  her 
gnarled  and  wrinkled  hand.  How  curious  that  she 
should  have  prayed  and  had  a  miracle  happen  to  her ! 

No  one  but  Dell  seemed  in  a  hurry.  All  the  faces 
were  strange,  even  if  they  did  stare  at  her.  The  brake- 
man  helped  her  on.  Just  as  a  hoarse  whistle  rent  the  air 
with  its  warning  sound  a  negro  came  running  down  the 
road  waving  his  hand.  Dell's  heart  stood  still.  What 
if  it  was  some  one  in  search  of  her ! 

They  steamed  out.  The  conductor  came  and  punched 
her  ticket.  Through  woods  and  wastes  until  they 
reached  Pine  Creek,  where  quite  a  number  of  passengers 
entered.  No  one  molested  her.  She  bought  two 
suspicious  looking  "  turnovers  "  from  a  boy,  for  she  was 
almost  famished.  Several  stations  were  passed  with 
indifferent  results,  then  they  reached  Junction. 

Though  more  pretentious  than  Croziers,  this  was  a 
small  place  also.  The  station  was  very  respectable. 
Dell  glanced  around  fearfully.  Passengers  were  buying; 
tickets.  If  she  asked  for  a  through  ticket,  would  she  not 
be  giving  a  clew  by  which  she  could  be  identified? 


162  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

While  she  was  considering,  her  eye  caught  the  figure 
of  a  pale  little  woman  who  seemed  to  have  more  than 
her  hands  full.  A  strong,  fat  baby  was  careering  in  her 
thin  arms,  and  making  frantic  snatches  at  her  hat ;  one 
little  girl  clung  tightly  to  her  skirt,  munching  cookies ;  a 
boy  was  swinging  a  satchel  in  spite  of  her  entreaties, 
and  she  was  trying  to  find  her  purse.  Her  strenuous  en- 
deavors were  almost  as  bad  as  those  of  the  poor  old  col- 
ored woman.  Something  in  the  troubled  face  appealed 
to  Dell's  ready  sympathy.  She  went  over  to  her. 

"  Let  me  take  your  baby  a  moment,"  she  said,  "  until 
you  get  your. ticket.  And  if  you  will  get  mine — will  the 
train  be  in  soon  ?  " 

"Well,  'bout  ten  minutes  now,  I  guess.  When  my 
man  left  me  here  it  was  twenty.  He  druv  over  early 
'cause  he  had  to  see  a  man  at  Perkinses.  O  Freddy, 
don't,"  as  Freddy  grasped  his  mother's  hat-brim  with 
both  hands.  "Ticket  offis  wa'nt  open  then,  or  he'd  'a' 
got  my  ticket.  Coin'  North?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Dell,  holding  out  her  hands  to 
Freddy,  who  began  to  survey  her  hat  with  delight. 

"  I'm  goin'  to  Philadelphy — Camden.  Jersey's  my 
native  State.  Freddy,  do  you  want  to  go?  I'm  afraid 
he'll  tear  you  to  pieces.  He's  an  awful  strong,  boister- 
ous child.  O  Georgy,  don't  swing  that  satchel  so  ;  you'll 
break  the  handle." 

Freddy  made  a  lurch,  and  Dell  caught  him  laugh- 
ingly. There  was  a  sudden  grave  inquiring  glance  in 
his  mischievous  eyes. 

"  I  ain't  been  smart  sence  he  was  born,  last  March. 
My  man,  he  came  down  here  three  year  ago  and  bought 
a  farm.  But  I  don't  like  it.  It's  so  far  away  from  every- 
thing. We  had  such  a  nice,  snug  little  place  just  back 
of  Camden,  'n  all  my  folks  live  'bout  there.  I  ain't  been 
home  sence.  And  my  man  said  I  might  as  well  go  and 
recruit  a  little,  I  was  so  weakly  and  dropped  down.  He 


BRINGING   A    DREAM  TO  PASS.  lt>3 

said  I  was  homesick,  and  1  guess  I  be."  She  gave  a 
wan  smile  and  brought  her  purse  to  light.  Then  she 
studied  Dell  inquiringly. 

"  Do  you  get  a  through  ticket?"  inquired  Dell. 

"  No,  only  to  Washington." 

Dell  settled  Freddy  half  under  one  arm,  and  felt  for 
her  money. 

"  Ho-.v  handy  you  be  with  babies.  Guess  you're  used 
to  them.  Never  mind — wait  till  I  come  back,"  making 
a  gesture  with  her  hand. 

"Yes,  we  had  a  houseful,"  said  Dell,  saving  her  hat 
from  wreck. 

The  woman  came  back  with  the  two  tickets. 

"  I  could  tell  by  your  face  you  liked  babies,"  she  said, 
with  a  pleasant  little  cadence.  "  Is  your  pa's  home 
North  or  here?  " 

"Oh,  at  New  York." 

"  Been  visiting  here?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Dell. 

"  And  I'll  lay  a  penny  you're  homesick  too!  Were 
you  away  from  all  your  folks?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Dell.    "  And  I  was  awfully  homesick." 

The  woman  smiled  sympathetically  up  in  the  bright 
honest  face  as  she  was  settling  herself.  Certainly  if  Dell 
never  looked  pretty  before,  she  looked  so  now  to  this 
pale,  worn-out  little  woman,  who  took  her  baby  back 
while  Dell  made  her  change  correctly. 

"  Ah,  you'll  be  glad  enough  to  get  back.  I  almost 
wonder  your  folks  dared  let  you  start  alone." 

"  There  was  no  one  to  come,"  said  Dell  cautiously. 

"  Where  did  your  relations  live?" 

"  I  started  from  Croziers."     Dell  felt  rather  on  guard. 

"Croziers?  I  don't  believe  I  know  where  that  is. 
I've  not  been  about  much.  Mamie  was  only  a  baby 
when  we  came,  and  I've  been  considerable  busy,"  with 
a  faint  smile.  "  I've  got  two  more  at  home.  Jenny, 


164  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

she's  fourteen,  and  Jack  is  "most  twelve.  Then  I  lost 
one  between.  I've  had  such  a  good,  faithful  black  cree- 
tur  all  summer,  used  to  be  a  slave  ;  and  my  man  said 
they  could  get  along,  and  1  must  go  and  get  well  and 
strong." 

The  train  came  in.  Mamie  had  finished  her  cake,  and 
Dell  took  charge  of  her.  They  were  all  marshalled  out 
and  marshalled  in,  and  a  seat  was  turned  over  to  make 
them  more  comfortable. 

"Now  I  will  take  Freddy  again  and  rest  you,"  said 
Dell,  reaching  out  her  hands. 

"  Oh,  how  good  you  be  !  No  one  ever  cuddles  babies 
that  way  if  they  don't  love  them.  How  many  are  there 
at  your  house  ?  " 

"  Seven." 

"  And  you  the  oldest?  "  she  asked  in  surprise. 

"I  am  not  their  child,"  returned  Dell  softly.  "My 
own  mother  died  at  their  house,  and  they  adopted  me. 
But  I  couldn't  have  had  better  parents." 

"And  you'll  repay  them.  You  have  such  a  good 
face,  and  such  lovely  eyes.  And  what  kindly  people 
they  must  be." 

"They  are  the  best  in  all  the  world  ;"  and  Dell  felt 
as  if  she  could  fly  to  them  on  the  wings  of  the  wind. 

"You're  a  grateful  girl,  and  you'll  prove  a  comfort  to 
them.  I'm  so  glad  I've  met  you.  Seems  almost  as  if  I 
had  Jenny.  And  we'll  get  a  sleeper  together." 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  you  take  me  in  charge,"  re- 
turned Dell,  with  smiling  thankfulness.  No  one  could 
suspect  her  now. 

Mamie  was  settled  in  the  corner,  and  soon  fell  asleep. 
Georgy  clamored  for  some  apples,  and  his  mother 
opened  the  satchel,  offering  Dell  one.  The  motion  of 
the  train  had  a  soporific  influence  on  Freddy,  who  ceased 
his  frantic  efforts  and  began  to  drowse. 

"It's   been    a   hard    day  for   me,"  said    Mrs.    Blake. 


BSIXGIXG   A    DREAM  TO  PASS.  165 

"  And  I  should  ha'  been  'most  killed  if  I  hadn't  met  you. 
You're  so  handy  and  kind." 

It  was  such  a  rare  delight  to  be  praised,  to  have  any 
one  find  personal  sweetness  in  her.  Her  heart  rose  with 
a  glad  throb.  And  then  she  should  see  her  dear  Mamma 
Murray  soon.  She  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief  that  was 
a  joyous  thanksgiving  as  well.  All  doubts  came  to  an 
end. 

A  rather  gruff- looking  man  opposite  surveyed  the  pic- 
ture, studying  the  eyes  that  were  like  brown  velvet,  the 
smiling  mouth,  the  rare  art  of  entertaining.  Of  course 
she  was  the  pale  little  woman's  daughter.  And  he  even 
considered,  in  the  years  to  come,  what  a  wife  and  mother 
she  would  make  ! 

"You  had  better  let  me  take  Freddy,"  Mrs.  Blake 
said.  "  He's  so  heavy." 

"  But  I  am  stronger  than  you,"  Dell  replied  with 
cheerful  decision. 

Mrs.  Blake  propped  herself  up  with  a  shawl  and  leaned 
her  head  back.  "  Would  you  mind  if  I  took  a  five  min- 
utes' nap?  "  she  besought.  "  The  motion  makes  me  so 
drowsy." 

"  Oh,  do  go  to  sleep  a  little  while,"  cried  Dell  earnestly. 
41  You  look  so  tired." 

Freddy  was  already  in  Slumbertown.  It  was  such  a 
delight  to  Dell  to  feel  the  plump,  soft  little  form  in  her 
arms.  She  grew  happier  every  moment.  Oh,  if  she 
need  never  see  Sherburne  House  again !  She  put  it 
resolutely  out  of  her  mind.  She  would  not  even  rejoice 
in  their  dismay. 

The  soft  darkness  began  to  fall  without,  but  they  all 
seemed  so  safe  and  comfortable.  Dell  came  to  a  knowl- 
edge that  she  was  \voefully  hungry.  She  hailed  a  fruit 
vender  with  delight,  and  yet  she  was  helpless. 

The  man  opposite  saw  her  dilemma  with  an  amused 
smile.  Summoning  the  boy  to  him  he  purchased  lib- 


166  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

erally,  took  a  newspaper  from  his  pocket  and  impro- 
vised a  sort  of  tray  which  he  bade  the  boy  take  across  to 
her. 

She  blushed,  but  smiled  over  to  him  with  a  rare  ad- 
mission of  honest  thanks.  She  ate  with  infinite  relish,  for 
the  fruit  was  delicious.  What  a  picnic  it  all  was !  As 
they  plunged  on  through  the  darkness,  Dell's  heart  was 
as  light  and  sunny  as  a  summer  morning. 

They  stopped  at  a  station.  The  man  rose,  and 
steadying  himself  in  the  aisle,  dropped  a  magnificent 
bunch  of  grapes  in  Dell's  hand  that  caressed  the  sleep- 
ing baby. 

"  You're  a  good  da'ter,"  he  said,  with  a  kindly  smile  ; 
then  he  stepped  out  in  the  darkness. 

It  seemed  so  natural  to  have  people  pleased  and  satis- 
fied with  her.  Wasn't  Sherburne  House  all  a  horrid 
dream ! 


CHAPTER  XII. 

IN  THE  OLD  HOME  ONCE  MORE. 

MRS.  BLAKE  stirred  and  opened  her  eyes. 

"Oh,  what  a  splendid  nap  I've  had,"  she  exclaimed. 
"  And  you've  held  that  great  heavy  baby.  How  good 
you  are !  Give  him  to  me  now,  I  feel  so  nice  and 
rested.  And  oh,  my  dear,  I've  a  lot  of  good  chicken 
sandwiches  in  the  satchel.  Why  didn't  you  get  'em  out, 
Georgy  ?  ' ' 

"  We's  all  had  somethin'  better'n  sand  things," 
returned  Georgy,  with  disdain.  "Grapes  'n  pears  'n 
peaches." 

"  Oh,  you  didn't  buy  'em?  " — regretfully,  to  Dell. 

Dell  explained.  Freddy  began  to  squirm  around  and 
cry.  His  mother  took  him  after  she  had  found  the  sand- 
wiches, done  up  nicely  in  a  napkin.  She  offered  them  to 
Dell,  who  thought  at  first  she  could  not  eat  any  more,  but 
they  tasted  quite  delicious.  Miss  Sherburne  would  have 
been  shocked  at  such  voracity. 

The  agent  came  along  to  inquire  about  sleeping-car 
berths.  Mrs.  Blake  took  in  Dell  with  her  family.  Pres- 
ently the  train  slowed  up  in  the  great  capital.  Georgy 
shouldered  the  satchel  manfully.  Mamie  was  past  rous- 
ing. When  they  stood  her  ^n  her  feet  she  fell  down  in  a 
nerveless  heap. 

"  If  you  will  take  the  baby  I'll  manage  her,"  said  Mrs. 
Blake.  Freddy  had  fallen  asleep  again.  "And  be  care- 
ful of  your  money,"  she  whispered.  "  My  man  he  cau- 
tioned me.  There's  such  lots  of  pickpockets." 

All  was  pushing,  confusion,  hurrying  to  and  fro.  Mrs. 
167 


108  SHEBBURNE  HOUSE. 

Blake  carried  Mamie  in  her  arms,  and  Dell  followed 
with  the  baby.  Some  one  kindly  piloted  them,  and  at 
length  they  found  themselves  in  safety  once  more. 
Mamie  was  laid  in  the  berth,  only  giving  a  restless  little 
grunt.  Georgy,  half  asleep,  was  packed  in  beside  her. 
Dell's  berth  was  next  to  Mrs.  Blake's.  The  poor  child 
suddenly  began  to  realize  her  utter  fatigue,  and  \vas 
thankful  to  drop  down  anywhere. 

It  hardly  seemed  an  hour  when  she  was  roused. 

"My  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Blake,  "we're  comin'  into 
Philadelphy.  I'm  gettin'  the  children  ready.  But  I 
wanted  a  sweet  good-bye.  It  seems  cruel  to  leave  you. 
But  you'll  soon  be  in  New  York,  and  I  hope  you'll  meet 
your  friends  all  right.  You've  been  such  a  help  and 
comfort  to  me.  I  never  did  take  quite  so  to  a  stranger. 
And  I  want  you  to  send  me  a  postal  when  you  reach  your 
rna,  so's  I  shan't  feel  worried.  Just  direct  to  Mrs.  Joseph 
Blake,  Camden.  And  tell  your  ma,  if  you  wasn't  already 
adopted  I  should  want  to  take  you  myself.  Jenny'd  love 
you  so.  My  dear,  will  you  kiss  me  good-bye  ?  " 

Dell  raised  herself  up  and  clasped  her  arms  about 
Mrs.  Blake's  neck.  The  little  woman  kissed  her  again 
and  again.  Georgy  gave  her  a  good-bye.  The  porter 
took  Mamie  in  his  arms,  and  Dell  laid  her  head  back  on 
her  pillow  with  tears  in  her  eyes.  She  felt  very  lone- 
some now,  whirling  along  in  the  greyness  and  tumult. 
She  did  not  sleep  any  more,  and  could  not  help  wonder- 
ing what  had  occurred  at  Sherburne  House.  Would 
they  really  care  if  she  had  strayed  off  somewhere  and 
died? 

She  reached  her  destination  without  any  mishaps,  it 
was  quite  daylight  now.  She  was  stiff  and  cold,  and 
shivered  as  she  followed  the  throng  on  the  boat,  with  an 
apprehensive  feeling  that  some  one  might  pounce  down 
upon  her.  But  New  York  seemed  secure  ground.  There 
was  only  the  horse-car  ride,  and  then  . 


IN  THE  OLD  HUME  ONCE  MORE,  1U9 

Dell  had  an  emotion  that  was  not  quite  jubilant. 
"What  would  papa  Murray  say?  Had  she  really  kept 
her  promise  about  trying?  Yes,  she  had  tried.  She 
•would  be  sent  back,  of  course.  Could  anything  be  done 
•with  her  like  sending  her  to  a  reform  school  ?  Oh, 
surely  the  Hurrays  would  not  allow  that!  Somehow 
the  brightness  of  the  escapade  was  a  little  dulled. 

She  signaled  the  conductor  at  the  well-remembered 
corner.  She  walked  two  blocks — ah,  how  natural  it  all 
appeared.  A  great  joy  thrilled  her,  and  her  feet  hardly 
touched  the  sidewalk.  She  flew  in  at  the  gate,  over  the 
porch — how  small  it  looked  to  her  now  !  opened  the  door, 
and  went  straight  to  Mrs.  Murray's  arms. 

"Sure,"  cried  Mrs.  Murray,  "sure  now,  you're  no 
ghost  nor  banshee !  Oh,  where  did  you  come  from  ? 
Did  you  drop  out  of  the  clouds  ?  O  Dell,  is  it  you  for 
certain,  flesh  and  blood?  I  never  thought  they'd  let  you 
come  !  " 

When  Mrs.  Murray  was  excited,  there  came  the  pret- 
tiest and  tenderest  suggestion  of  brogue  in  her  voice. 
She  kissed  Dell  again  and  again,  then  both  began  to  cry 
after  the  fashion  of  feminine  nature.  The  children  hud- 
dled round,  clamoring,  pushing  each  other,  and  almost 
rending  Dell  in  pieces  to  snatch  a  hand  or  press  a  kiss 
somewhere  on  her  soft,  wet  face. 

"  And  it  never  is  you  !  " 

"Stick  a  pin  in  her,"  said  Con,  reaching  for  a  great 
shawl  pin  on  the  cushion.  Then  they  all  laughed,  and 
stared  harder  than  ever. 

The  remnant  of  breakfast  was  still  on  the  table,  and 
Dell  felt  that  she  needed  some.  So  she  struggled  with 
the  tribe,  managed  to  get  off  her  hat  and  sack,  and  gave 
;•  big  shiver  as  she  stood  before  the  stove. 

"  I'm  hungry  and  cold  all  through.  May  I  have  some 
coffee  ? ' ' 

"My   darling,   yes.     Tessy,  get  a  clean  plate.     Oh, 


170  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

children,"  with  an  amusingly  helpless  sound  in  her 
voice,  "  don't  eat  up  Dell." 

"  I  feel  thin  now,"  said  Dell  laughingly.  "  I  wouldn't 
be  good  picking."  They  all  brought  her  chairs,  plates, 
knives,  and  forks,  as  if  she  was  to  eat  twenty  meals  in 
succession.  Mrs.  Murray  began  to  broil  a  bit  of  steak. 

"  Who  came  with  you  ?  "  she  asked.  "  And  how  did 
you  ever  persuade  them  ?  But  you  always  were  a  coax- 
ing colleen.  And  we've  wanted  so  to  know  how  you  got 
on  with  your  relative  1  She  wrote  a  bitter  note  to  Con 
because  I  let  little  Con  send  a  line  in  answer  to  your  let- 
ter. Ah,  but  she's  a  heart  like  a  rock !  " 

"  She's  the  hatefulest  person — like  the  cruel  people  in 
books !  She  keeps  me  in  my  room,  and  sometimes  I 
don't  get  enough  to  eat.  And  all  of  Sherburne  House  is 
mine  !  "  cried  Dell,  with  a  burst  of  deep  indignation.  "  I 
just  ran  away  !  " 

Mrs.  Murray  dropped  the  plate  she  had  taken,  and  it 
shivered  to  fragments.  "  Ran  away!  "  she  ejaculated. 
"  Ran  away  !  "  cried  the  Greek  chorus  in  every  attitude, 
every  gradation  of  tone,  every  variety  of  expression. 

"  O  Dell !  not— alone  ?  " 

"  Yes,  all  alone."  Dell  had  swallowed  some  hot  cof- 
fee, and  felt  braver.  "Of  course  they  will  come  after 
me  and  take  me  back.  I  don't  know  what  they  will  do 
to  me.  And  she  struck  me,  the  horrid  old  thing  !  "  Dell 
flushed  with  the  remembered  indignity.  "  I  don't  be- 
lieve they  dare  beat  me  or  put  me  in  prison.  But  I 
should  have  gone  crazy  if  I  had  not  done  something  !  " 

"  Hurray  !  "  cried  Con.  "  You're  a  lad  after  my  own 
heart.  Will  you  look  at  the  pluck  of  her!  I'll  bet  on 
you  every  time,  Dell,  and  win." 

"But" — Mamma  Murray  was  so  amazed  she  could 
only  stare.  "  But — you  couldn't  walk " 

"  I  walked  across  the  woods  to  a  little  station — Croziers. 
And  I  did  think  I  should  never  get  there.  Then  I  took 


IN  THE   OLD   HOME  ONCE  MORE.  171 

the  cars  to  Junction,  to  Washington,  to  Jersey  City,  and 
came  flying  in  this  morning.  A  sweet,  kind  little 
woman  with  some  children  took  care  of  me.  It  all  seems- 
now  like  a  ridiculous  dream  !  But  it  is  so  utterly  lovely 
to  see  you  again." 

"  Dfil,  they  will  go  crazy  when  they  miss  you,"  and 
Densie  was  terror-stricken  at  the  thought. 

Dell  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  curled  her  lip. 
"Not  they,"  she  cried.  "They  do  not  care  enough 
about  me.  They  would  all  be  glad  to  find  me  out  in  the 
woods,  dead." 

Lyndell  honestly  considered  that  the  truth. 

"  But  oh,  if  it  was  Tessy,"  moaned  Mrs.  Murray,  in 
anguish. 

"It  wouldn't  be  Tessy  nor  Con,  nor  any  one  here. 
Oh,  Mamma  Murray,  no  one  would  ever  want  to  run- 
away from  you.  You  are  the  dearest  and  sweetest  and 
best  woman  in  all  the  land  !  Maybe  God  put  so  much 
sweetness  in  you  that  there  wasn't  enough  left  to  go 
round.  I've  been  starved  for  a  sight  of  you.  My  soul 
was  empty  and  forlorn.  I  think  if  they  had  let  me  write, 
it  wouldn't  have  been  quite  so  bad." 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  my  dear!  "  Densie  wiped  away  some 
tears,  and  kissed  down  in  Morna's  curly  head. 

"But,  Dell,  dear— it  cost  something.  And  the 
money ' 

"  It  wasn't  her  money.  And,  mamma,  when  I  get  to 
be  a  young  lady,  I  shall  be  very,  very  rich.  And  you 
shall  all  come  and  live  with  me." 

"That's  fair  in  you,  Dell.  Glad  to  see  you're  not 
going  back  on  your  old  friends,"  and  Con  executed 
some  wonderful  double  shuffles  around  the  room. 

Dell  ate  and  talked.  She  told  them  how  she  had 
climbed  down  the  vine  ;  of  the  queer  old  black  woman, 
and  Mrs.  Blake  and  the  babies.  It  was  more  wonderful 
to  them  than  a  fairy  story. 


172  SHEBBURNE  HOUSE. 

"Come,  Con,"  said  Mrs.  Murray  presently;  "see 
how  the  morning  is  going.  And  there's  the  yard  to 
tidy,  the  cellar  to  clean,  and  the  errands.  And,  Tessy, 
your  sweeping." 

"  I'll  help,"  cried  Dell  eagerly.  "  It'll  be  rare  fun, 
just  like  old  times.  Oh,  I  wish  the  fortune  hadn't  come, 
and  I  was  just  Dell  Murray  again.  It's  so  delightful  to 
be  here." 

"  No,  you  look  tired,  and  you  must  just  sit  still.  And 
you're  not  so  rosy  " — studying  her.  "  And  oh,  you  are 
thinner " 

Dell  laughed  gayly.  "  My  stoutness  is  a  terrible 
crime  in  Miss  Sherburne's  eyes,  and  she  would  rejoice  to 
hear  that.  The  Beaumanoir  girls  are  slim  and — yes, 
really  pretty.  Then  there  are  a  lot  of  cousins  I  have  not 
seen  ;  some  of  them  are  abroad,  but  I  believe  I  am  the 
only  black  sheep." 

Tessy  had  piled  up  the  dishes.  Mrs.  Murray  began  to 
wash  them.  Dell  kissed  the  younger  ones  rapturously — 
Laddie  was  still  asleep  upstairs. 

She  made  a  snatch  at  the  towel.  "  I'll  dry  the  dishes," 
she  declared.  "  It  will  be  queer  to  do  something  really 
useful  once  more.  Down  there,  there  are  servants  and 
servants,  a  regiment  of  black  people,  and  almost  a  vil- 
lage— called  the  quarters.  And  Cassy,  Miss  Sherburne's 
maid,  never  sweeps,  and  her  hands  are  soft  as  a  lady's. 
I  am  washed  and  dressed  and  have  my  boots  buttoned 
and  my  hair  combed,  and  I  never  even  dust  my  room." 

"O  Dell,  you're  a  real  lady,"  cried  Tessy  admir- 
ingly. 

"  And  I  study  French  and  music  and  Latin,  but  see — 
I  can  wipe  dishes,"  and  she  held  up  a  polished  saucer. 
"Get  me  an  apron,  Tess,  I  did  not  bring  my  trunk. 
And  somehow,  Mamma  Murray,  I  do  not  believe  I  was 
meant  for  a  great  lady.  I  like  work  and  folks  and  every- 
day life.  But  if  you  could  see  the  place  !  There*'s  miles 


IN  THE   OLD  HOME  ONCE  MORE.  173 

and  miles  of  woods  and  farms  and  tobacco  fields,  and 
such  a  great  house  !  Why  you  could  put  all  of  this  dear 
old  home  in  the  parlor." 

Con  was  so  enchanted  that  he  really  could  not  stir. 
All  the  children  listened  big-eyed,  and  the  smaller 
ones  opened-mouthed.  It  was  so  hard  to  go  away  and 
leave  their  dear  Dell.  Who  could  be  certain  she  would 
not  vanish  ?  Poor  Densie  Murray  was  almost  distraught 
with  contending  emotions.  She  trembled  for  the  results 
of  the  escapade  that  Dell  treated  so  airily. 

When  the  dishes  were  done  Dell  ran  out  of  doors  with 
Con.  The  sun  was  shining  brightly,  and  all  the  air  had 
grown  warmer.  How  gay  the  garden  looked,  but  oh, 
how  queer  and  small  everything  seemed  !  Con  began 
to  take  care  of  some  vegetables  and  pile  up  a  heap  of 
rubbish.  Ah,  how  light  and  happy  she  felt.  Tim  Mc- 
Cray  spied  her  out,  and  in  ten  minutes  the  neighborhood 
was  whooped  up,  and  the  clans  gathering  from  "near 
and  from  far." 

"You're  changed  curiously,"  said  Con.  "You're 
not  a  bit  stuck  up,  but  you've  a  '  moighty  foine  air' 
about  you.  You're  just  the  biggest  sort  of  a  trump " 

"  Sure  you  don't  mean  tramp?  "  interrupted  Dell  with 
dancing  eyes. 

"  Not  to  turn  up  your  nose  at  a  fellow  who  has  to  carry 
in  a  peck  of  onions  and  pick  the  sere  and  faded  bean- 
vines.  Let's  shake  pinkies  and  swear  eternal  friendship. 
And  when  I  get  there  I  shall  do  my  best  to  beat  you  out 
of  your  boots  in  Latin." 

They  interlocked  their  little  fingers  and  nodded. 
Then  Dell  had  to  entertain  the  crowd  for  a  few  mo- 
ments. Oh,  how  many  old  friends  there  were  !  What 
would  Miss  Sherburne  say  to  see  her  the  centre  of  this 
crowd  of  boys  not  over  clean,  not  over  whole  as  to  gar- 
ments ! 

Then  Tessy  came  to  summon  them  in. 


174  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

"  It's  a  telegram.  Whatever  will  I  do,  Con?  "  cried 
Iris  mother  in  dismay. 

"And  the  man  wants  you  to  sign  the  book,"  urged 
Tessy.  "  Is  there  an  answer?  " 

"Open  it,"  commanded  Con,  with  an  assumption  of 
manliness.  Mrs.  Murray  did,  but  she  was  so  agitated 
that  she  held  it  to  Con  to  read. 

If  Lyndell  Sherburne  comes  to  you  will  you  please 
notify  immediately. 

J.  WHITTINGHAM. 

Densie  glanced  around  helplessly.  Dell  turned  pale. 
"Of  course  I  knew  I  would  have  to  go  back,"  Dell  be- 
gan tremulously.  "  Some  one  will  have  to  come  for  me, 
and  I  can't  go  before  Monday.  Oh,  let  me  send  the  an- 
swer." And  her  eyes  sparkled. 

"  Yes,"  cried  Con.     "  That  will  be  immense." 
Dell  considered.     Then  she  just  penned  : 

I  am  safe  with  Murrays. 

LYNDELL  SHERBURNE. 

The  lad  took  the  message  and  vanished. 

"  Miss  Sherburne  would  like  to  explode  me  with  dyna- 
mite," said  Dell,  with  a  saucy  laugh.  "  Well,  we  won't 
let  such  a  trifle  spoil  our  good  times." 

And  they  did  not.  The  "  time  "  in  Murray's  Row  far 
exceeded  anything  that  had  ever  been  known  there.  It 
•was  interrupted  by  dinner,  and  Dell  declared  she  was 
"  hungrier  than  a  bear." 

Afterward  mamma  insisted  she  must  lie  down  on  the 
lounge  in  the  parlor.  She  looked  so  very  pale  and 
tired. 

"  Kiss  me  at  least  twenty  times,"  besought  Dell. 
•"  No  one  ever  kisses  me  at  Sherburne  House." 

"  Alanna,"  began  mamma  coaxingly,  "  tell  me  a  bit 
about  the  money.  I  can't  feel  easy  in  my  mind.  Was 


IN  THE  OLD  HOME  ONCE  MORE.  175- 

it  truly  yours  ?  Yet  I'd  as  soon  suspect  this  right  hand,' 
and  she  held  it  up,  plump  and  dimpled  for  all  its  hard 
work,  "  as  to  think " 

"  Oh,  mamma  !  "  Dell  flushed  and  the  tears  came  into 
her  eyes.  "  Mr.  Whittingham  gave  me  five  dollars. 
And  I  had  my  own  two  dollars  that  I  took  with  me.  The 
other  I  found— so  queerly  that  it  was  like  the  old  black 
woman's  miracle." 

"Found  it?"  echoed  Mamma  Murray  in  consterna- 
tion. 

Dell  sat  up  again  and  told  the  story.  "  I  waited  and 
waited,  and  no  one  asked  about  it.  And  I  was  afraid 
Miss  Sherburne  would  not  try  to  find  the  owner.  She 
says  she  never  believes  the  negroes.  I  know  the  money 
isn't  mine,  and  I  have  only  borrowed  it.  When  I  find 
the  real  owner,  I  shall  get  some  of  mine  and  pay  it 
back." 

Dell's  honesty  and  casuistry  puzzled  the  simple  soul. 

"  Couldn't  you  have  asked  some  one  ?     Cassy  ?  " 

"  Cassy  must  have  told  Miss  Sherburne.  And  she 
might  have  said — maybe  she  would  have  thought  I  didn't 
really  find  it.  You  can't  think  how  utterly  alone  I  am. 
Oh,  mamma,  I  shall  hate  to  go  back." 

Dell  sobbed,  and  Densie  comforted  her  in  her  soft 
crooning  voice,  and  smoothed  the  white  forehead  until 
suddenly,  wearied  out,  Dell  fell  asleep. 

The  rest  was  an  excellent  thing  for  her.  The  day 
turned  out  very  warm,  so  warm,  indeed,  that  when  she 
woke  and  had  been  bathed  and  refreshed,  they  all  went 
out  under  the  old  apple-tree.  Surely  the  neighborhood 
had  assembled.  There  was  Granny  McCray,  looking 
more  than  ever  like  a  wrinkled-up  winter  apple,  who  had 
to  clasp  her  arm  before  she  would  believe  the  girl  wasn't 
a  "shperit."  And  as  Dell  talked,  she  kept  interpo- 
lating :  ••  Will  ye  hear  that  now  !  Just  listen  a  bit !  Ob 
now,  is  it  so,  me  dear  !  " 


176  SHEBBURNE  HOUSE. 

When  Con  Murray  returned  to  the  bosom  of  his  family, 
his  amazement  knew  no  bounds.  I  am  afraid  he  so  ad- 
mired the  daring  of  the  girl  that  he  had  less  blame  for 
the  wrong.  Dell  was  so  eager,  so  fond,  so  inexplicably 
changed,  and  yet  so  true.  And  as  she  told  her  story  bit 
by  bit,  not  exaggerating  in  any  respect,  their  hearts 
ached  for  her.  They  felt  sore  at  Miss  Sherburne's  dis- 
dain of  them,  and  her  trying  to  win  the  girl  to  ingrati- 
tude. 

"They  ought  to  send  you  away  to  a  nice  school. 
With  all  the  fortune  that's  to  come  to  you,  it's  wicked  to 
keep  you  mewed  up  like  a  prisoner.  The  cantankerous 
old  thing  !  If  she  comes  here  again,  she'll  have  a  piece 
of  my  mind  in  short  order." 

"  It's  queer,"  remarked  Dell,  "but  the  other  children 
like  her  and  she  is  kind  and  caressing  to  them.  It's  just 
because  I  had  to  come  in  and  take  Sherburne  House 
from  them.  And  I  didn't  want  it  a  bit  at  first,  but  now 
I  am  glad  to  keep  it  away  from  that  Leonard  Beau- 
manoir.  I  hate  him  !  " 

"Ah,  dear,  there  are  better  things  to  life  than  hate," 
and  Con  kissed  the  child's  flushed  face.  "  It's  going  to 
be  very  hard  for  you.  Heaven  knows,  I  wish  I  could 
see  some  better  way  out  of  it.  I  don't  want  you  to  grow 
bitter  and  malevolent.  For  when  you  are  a  woman  you 
can  make  many  people  happy,  if  you  only  keep  your 
own  sweet,  sunny  temper." 

Dell  drew  a  quivering  breath. 

"I  can't  keep  sunny  and  pleasant,"  she  said.  "You 
don't  know  lonely,  how  shut  in  it  all  is  for  me.  I  get 
cross  and  tired  sitting  still  so  much,  and  I  ache  every- 
where until  I  break  out  into  some  sort  of  temper.  I 
never  did  it  here." 

"  Dell,  my  darling,  there  is  only  one  thing.  Be  brave 
and  true.  The  time  goes  on,  and  it  will  presently  bring 
you  to  womanhood  ;  perhaps  before  that,  you  may  come 


177 

to  some  liberty.  And  though  it  seems  ungracious  to  find 
fault  when  you  have  braved  so  much  to  come  to  us,  1 
want  you  to  be  very  sure  to  search  for  the  owner  of  the 
money  you  found.  It  was  not  yours.  I  am  going  to  re- 
place it,  and  I  want  you  to  keep  it  sacredly." 

"Oh,  papa  Murray!"  She  kissed  him  with  eager 
tenderness.  "  You  must  not  do  it.  I  mean  to  ask  Mr. 
Whittingham  for  it.  You  see  it  ought  to  come  out  of  my 
money." 

"  And,  dear — in  the  time  to  come  you  will  remember 
there  is  nothing  equal  to  perfect  uprightness." 

The  tears  sprang  to  Dell's  eyes,  yet  somehow  she  could 
not  feel  sorry  she  had  ventured. 

It  seemed  so  good  to  sleep  in  the  small  room  with 
Tessy.  She  held  the  plump,  warm  hand  in  hers,  and 
listened  to  the  child's  soft,  regular  breathing.  She  did 
not  feel  sleepy.  The  contrast  filled  her  mind,  stirred, 
and  excited  her.  Would  she  really  want  to  come  back 
and  lose  the  splendid  opportunities  of  the  future?  What 
if  there  were  some  mistake — what  if  she  really  were  not 
Edward  Sherburne's  daughter?  But  then,  she  could  re-  . 
member  her  mother  so  far  back  ;  it  seemed  too,  as  if  she 
could  recall  her  father,  in  a  shadowy  way.  But  would 
she  be  glad  to  give  up  that  fine  old  home,  the  grand 
woods  and  farms,  the  beautiful  roomy  house  with  its 
grandeur — even  the  maid  to  wait  upon  one,  the  spacious 
chamber,  the  rich  antique  furniture,  that  certain  air  of 
luxury  that  filled  her  for  the  first  time  with  a  vague  sense 
of  enjoyment  ?  Hitherto  it  seemed  as  if  she  could  have 
thrown  it  all  to  the  winds  in  her  eagerness  to  be  back 
with  the  Murrays. 

She  could  not  really  understand  herself.  She  should 
never,  never  give  up  her  old  friends  who  had  been  so 
good  to  her  in  her  time  of  need.  But  were  not  their 
ways  diverging  a  little?  Their  futures  would  certainly 
be  different.  Not  six  months  ago  her  girlish  ambition 


178  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

was  to  graduate  with  honors  and  to  teach  school.  The 
richest  girl  in  the  county,  Leonard  Beaumanoir  had  said. 
She  could  no  longer  protest  against  the  change,  but  she 
•did  rebel  with  her  whole  soul  against  the  tyranny  to 
which  she  was  being  subjected.  If  they  would  only  send 
her  to  school ! 

Con  Murray  was  rather  wakeful  as  well. 

"  That  woman  will  ruin  the  child,"  he  said  to  Densie, 
with  a  keen  sense  of  indignation.  "  If  she  is  disobedient 
and  insolent,  the  treatment  has  made  her  so.  I'm  sure 
one  could  always  lead  her  with  a  soft  word,  and  it  argues 
ill  for  a  nature  that  always  wants  to  drive.  There's 
something  arbitrary  and  desperately  selfish  in  it.  And 
to  think — if  she'd  found  a  dime  about  here,  she  would 
have  run  to  you  with  it,  and  now  she  keeps  this  sum — 
she  hasn't  trust  enough  in  any  one  to  ask  help  to  find  the 
owner.  One  wants  to  laugh,  too,  at  the  real  pluck  of  the 
colleen  ;  and  the  love  she  bears  us  touches  me  to  the 
heart's  core.  Why  can't  her  relatives  win  a  little  of  it? 
She  only  wants  a  kind  word.  She's  not  vicious  or  weak, 
she  has  some  of  the  bravest  virtues,  though  she's  a  bit 
hot-tempered.  And  with  all  this  fortune  she  ought  to 
grow  up  into  a  fine,  noble  woman.  She  would,  with 
any  sort  of  training." 

"  Whatever  would  we  do  if  she  had  resolved  not  to  go 
back  !  "  cried  Densie.  "I  was  so  frightened  at  first." 

"She  has  some  wisdom  of  her  own,"  returned  Con. 
"  And  she  is  beginning  to  understand  her  position.  But 
I  can't  bear  to  think  of  the  true,  brave-hearted,  honest 
child  being  made  underhand,  secretive,  obstinate,  and 
full  of  hate.  If  there  was  only  one  among  them  who 
would  love  her  a  little  !  It's  a  hard  place  to  be  thrust 
into  by  a  curious  turn  of  fate." 

"  If  we  had  known  for  certain  that  her  mother's  hopes 
were  to  come  true  — 

"  Yes,  we  should  have  done  somewhat  differently.     I 


IN  THE  OLD  HOME  ONCE  MORE.  179 

ought  to  have  written  to  them.  Yet  if  it  had  added  four 
years  of  hardship  to  a  younger  life  !  I  suppose  it  is  all 
just  as  the  good  Father  meant  it  to  be,  and  we  must  not 
lose  faith  because  we  cannot  see  the  end.  Only  I  don't 
want  her  to  be  ruined  by  the  mistakes  of  others." 

They  all  had  a  delightful  Sunday.  It  was  warm  and 
summerlike.  They  sat  out  under  the  old  apple-tree  in 
the  afternoon,  and  the  neighbors  visited.  Dell  enjoyed 
it  with  a  secret  sense  of  amusement.  What  would  Miss 
Sherburne  say  to  her  being  the  heroine  of  such  a  very 
mixed  audience  ?  She  became  aware  of  an  intangible 
difference  herself.  It  was  not  pride — she  kissed  some  of 
these  old  women  with  a  tender  heartiness,  but  she  seemed 
to  realize  that  she  had  come  of  a  rather  different  race. 
Her  mother  was  a  more  vivid  personality  than  she  had 
ever  been  before,  and  Dell  felt  as  if,  in  some  respects, 
she  had  suddenly  matured.  She  was  no  longer  a  child, 
eager  only  for  fun  and  love. 

And  though  she  -enjoyed  the  quaint  deference  of  the 
children,  and  was  a  wonder  to  the  elders,  she  began  to 
have  a  misgiving  that  it  was  not  as  truly  heroic  as  it 
seemed  to  these  simple  people.  Something  in  Con's 
eyes  touched  her  as  no  reproof  could  have  done.  For 
love's  sake  he  could  hardly  blame,  yet  neither  could  he 
approve.  He  was  not  less  tender,  in  fact  he  could 
hardly  let  her  go  far  from  his  caressing  hand,  but  the 
very  touch  came  almost  to  have  an  upbraiding  in  it. 
Still  she,  with  the  light-hearted  impulse  of  childhood, 
put  off  the  hour  of  reckoning.  That  she  had  caused  any 
real  alarm  or  anxiety  at  Sherburne  did  not  seem  possible 
to  her.  How  had  it  been  ? 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

A   GRAVE   QUESTION. 

WHEN  Cassy  went  to  her  dinner  she  had  taken  the 
precaution  to  lock  Miss  Sherburne's  door.  For  once  she 
had  seen  a  fleet  figure  skimming  up  the  stairs,  though  she 
had  not  considered  it  necessary  to  mention  her  suspicions. 
It  was  some  time  before  she  returned,  as  a  little  business 
delayed  her. 

How  very  still  Lyndell  seemed  !  Cassy  had  been  for- 
bidden to  speak  to  her,  so  she  softly  took  out  the  key 
and  glanced  into  the  apartment  through  the  aperture. 
Dell's  blue  gingham  was  on  the  bed  where  she  had 
thrown  it  in  her  haste.  What  more  natural  than  for 
Cassy  to  fancy  she  had  fallen  asleep,  wearied  out  with 
her  solitude. 

About  five  Miss  Sherburne  returned  home,  leaving  her 
friends  to  complete  their  visit.  Cassy  sat  sewing,  and  she 
glanced  up  at  the  entrance  of  her  mistress. 

"  Have  you  had  much  trouble?"  she  asked. 

"  None  at  all.  She  has  been  very  quiet.  I  fancy  she 
must  have  fallen  asleep." 

"  You  remained  here  all  the  time  ?  " 

"  Except  when  I  went  to  dinner.  Then  Mrs.  Wismer 
came,  and  I  hunted  up  the  package  of  clothing.  Her 
husband  is  barely  alive." 

"You   may  go  now."     Miss  Sherburne  felt  that  she 
would  rather  fight  her  battle  without  witnesses. 
.  All  through  her  homeward  drive  she  had  been  resolv- 
ing resources  in  her  mind,  only  to  find  them  lamentably 
deficient.     Certainly,  authority  was  not  respected    as  it 
180 


A   GRAVE  QUESTION.  181 

had  been  in  her  youth.  She  remembered  her  own  stately 
and  imperious  mother,  whose  dainty  hand  often  wielded 
a  slim,  silver-handled  riding  whip  on  a  refractory  slave  or 
a  disobedient  child.  Almost  she  longed  to  have  the 
power  restored.  And  yet  she  was  not  a  cruel  woman. 
The  freed  people  at  Sherburne  found  her  an  exact  but 
not  unkindly  mistress. 

She  opened  the  door  a  slight  space. 

"  Lyndell,"  she  said,  "  you  may  bring  me  your  books, 
and  your  sewing." 

There  was  not  the  slightest  stir. 

"  Lyndell,"  sharply.     "  Come  at  once." 

The  contumacy  was  exasperating.  She  pushed  the 
door  open.  Lyndell  was  lying  on  the  bed.  This  was  too 
much  to  be  borne  quietly.  She  crossed  the  apartment. 
It  was  merely  the  child's  dress.  She  searched  the  closet, 
she  tried  the  door  to  the  hall,  which  was  locked.  There 
was  the  open  window. 

She  rang  for  Cassy. 

"  Where  is  Miss  Lyndell  ?  "  she  demanded. 

Cassy  searched  the  room  to  no  purpose. 

"  She  has  escaped  from  the  window." 

"  But  I  must  have  seen  her.  I  sat  here  all  the  time, 
except  at  noon." 

"  You  are  quite  sure  you  did  not  see  her  ?  "  This  was 
asked  with  biting  contempt. 

"  I  thought — she  was  so  quiet  that  I  looked  once 
through  the  keyhole.  I  fancied  she  was  asleep." 

"  Go  and  find  her  at  once." 

Miss  Sherburne  was  too  angry  for  further  utterance. 
That  Lyndell  should  dare  to  circumvent  her  in  this  man- 
ner! Certainly  the  child  seemed  possessed  by  the  devil. 
What  wanton  blood  was  in  her  veins !  That  she  dared 
to  defy  her  authority  so  flagrantly,  stunned  the  mistress 
of  Sherburne  House. 

Cassy  flew  to  the  quarters.     No  one  had  seen  her. 


182  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

Then  she  ran  to  several  of  Dell's  favorite  nooks,  but  all 
in  vain.  Her  eager,  anxious  voice  woke  only  echoes. 

Silver,  the  great  house  dog  came  up  to  her  with  eyes 
of  mute  inquiry. 

"  Silver,"  she  cried,  "  where  is  Miss  Dell  ?  " 

Dell  had  taken  such  a  fancy  to  the  dog  on  her  arrival 
that  Miss  Sherburne,  who  really  disliked  dogs  around, 
had  banished  him  to  the  rear  of  the  house. 

He  waved  his  tail  with  an  air  of  profound  sagacity,  and 
began  to  scent  the  porch,  the  steps,  the  path.  Then  he 
went  slowly  across  the  turf  to  the  magnolia  thicket,  where 
he  paused  with  a  puzzled  expression. 

"  But  she  is  not  here,  Silver." 

Silver  looked  up  out  of  melancholy  eyes. 

"Julius  might  take  out  the  hounds,"  thought  Cassy. 
"They  would  soon  unearth  her,  if  she  was  hiding  any- 
where. Or  she  might  have  lost  her  way."  Full  of  this 
idea,  she  went  to  Miss  Sherburne. 

"  No,"  said  that  lady  austerely.  "  I  will  not  have  the 
whole  plantation  roused.  Let  her  come  back  of  her  own 
accord.  She  will  hardly  stay  out  all  night." 

But  when  she  had  partaken  of  her  solitary  supper,  her 
haughty  composure  yielded  a  little  to  Cassy's  suggestion 
that  Dell  might  be  lost.  She  really  deserved  to  be  left 
in  the  woods  all  night,  but  that  would  hardly  answer. 
So  she  summoned  Julius  and  his  young  compeer  Tony. 

"Miss  Lyndell  has  strayed  off  somewhere  alone,"  she 
explained.  "You  had  better  take  out  the  hounds.  Of 
course,  I  need  not  caution  you  to  be  careful  and  not 
frighten  the  child." 

"  We'll  take  the  best  o'  keer,"  declared  Tony. 

Two  splendid  animals  they  were  in  leash,  gentle 
enough  to  their  master's  hand.  They,  too,  started 
for  the  magnolia  glen,  scented  a  little,  than  ran  on  in- 
telligently. 

Julius  paused.     "  You  better  go  back,  Cassy,"  he  said. 


A    GRAVE   QUESTION.  183 

"  Tone  an'  me' 11  find  her  shuah.  It's  gittin'  dark  an' 
damp." 

Gassy  returned,  nervous  and  troubled.  Dell  must 
have  gone  at  noon.  It  was  plain  that  she  had  lost  her- 
self in  the  woods. 

"  If  Missus  wasn't  so  strict  with  her."  In  moments  of 
excitement  Cassy  lapsed  to  the  common  idiom,  though  it 
was  her  pride  to  talk  just  like  white  folks.  "  If  Missus 
•wasn't  so  strict  with  her,  it  would  be  easier  getting  along. 
She  was  just  lovely  the  week  Missus  was  away.  And  I 
don't  see  why  she  doesn't  pack  her  off  to  school.  She'd 
fare  enough  sight  better." 

"They  have  gone  over  through  the  woods.  She  and 
Miss  Hendricks  took  a  walk  there  one  day,"  announced 
Cassy. 

"  That  child  ought  to  be  kept  under  bolts  and  bars," 
responded  Miss  Sherburne  tartly. 

Cassy  wandered  around  with  Silver  at  her  side,  pitying 
Dell  from  the  bottom  of  her  soul,  and  wondering  what 
would  be  done  with  her.  Miss  Sherburne  sat  stiff  and 
indignant,  nursing  her  wrath. 

Ten.  Eleven.  Some  time  after  this  there  was  a  rush 
and  rustle  and  the  sound  of  voices.  Miss  Sherburne 
braced  herself  for  the  encounter. 

"It's  sutn'y  de  queerest  t'ing,"  began  Tony  breath- 
lessly. "  Dem  dogs  went  straight  over  to  Croz'ers.  An' 
to  de  depot!  But  sho  !  she  hadn't  been  dar.  We  done 
woke  up  de  clerk  an'  he  swear  no  little  gal  buy  any  ticket 
dis  yer  arternoon." 

Julius  came  up  and  corroborated  the  statement.  "  An* 
de  dogs  ready  to  go  right  back,  but  dey  don'  find  no 
odder  trail  nowhere." 

"  Cassy,  do  you  know  whether  Miss  Lyndell  had  any 
money  ?" 

"I'm  sure  she  didn't.  At  least  I  never  heard  her 
mention  only  a  little  change  she  brought  with  her." 


184  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

Of  course  Miss  Hendricks  would  not  be  so  generous  as 
to  present  the  child  with  the  price  of  a  ticket.  Could  she 
have  written  to  the  Murray  s  under  cover  of  any  one?  She 
had  watched  her  so  closely,  but  there  was  that  unfortunate 
week  !  She  would  never  take  her  eyes  off  of  Dell  again 
until  she  was  a  woman  grown. 

Miss  Sherburne  was  very,  very  angry. 

"  I  do  not  know  what  else  we  can  do  to-night,  if  the 
dogs  will  not  take  any  other  direction.  As  soon  as  day- 
light, Julius,  you  go  over  to  Ardmore  and  bring  Mr. 
Whittingham  back.  Stay — perhaps  it  would  be  as  well 
to  take  the  lanterns  and  follow  the  creek." 

"  Yes'm." 

Miss  Sherburne  went  up  to  her  room,  put  on  a  dress- 
ing gown,  and  lay  down  on  the  outside  of  her  bed.  She 
was  very  wretched  and  nervous.  She  hated  to  admit 
that  the  thing  or  person  lived  that  she  could  not  govern 
or  reduce  to  some  sort  of  submission.  She  had  signally 
failed.  Oh,  what  a  terrible  affair  it  had  been  from  its. 
very  inception,  Edward's  meeting  with  that  intriguing 
governess.  It  did  not  occur  to  her  that  they  were  the 
ones  who  had  held  the  whole  power  in  their  hands,  and 
could  have  forgiven  these  imprudent  young  people 
with  less  real  anguish  than  Edward's  death  had  cost 
them. 

Some  of  the  servants  did  not  go  to  bed.  Even  at  the 
quarters  there  was  intense  excitement.  But  Julius  came 
back  with  no  news  of  the  truant. 

"  Shouldn't  be  s' prised  ef  she  done  gone  took  de 
keers  somewer.  Dem  dogs  nebber  make  mistakes." 

At  last  morning  dawned.  It  was  still  early  when 
Julius  brought  Mr.  Whittingham  over. 

"  My  dear  madam  !  "  He  took  Miss  Sherburne's  cold 
hand  in  his,  and  was  moved  to  sincerest  pity  by  her  pale 
and  harassed  face.  "  What  a  terrible  fright  for  you  ! 
And  if  there  has  been  an  accident — but  I  have  quite 


A    GRAVE  QUESTION.  185 

decided  that  she  must  have  started  for  New  York.  Has 
she  been  in  communication  with  the  Murray s?  " 

"  I  cannot  tell  what  she  has  done  clandestinely.  Not 
to  my  knowledge,  however."  And  she  tried  to  steady 
her  voice. 

"  Had  she  any  money  ?  " 

"  A  dollar  or  two,  Cassy  thinks." 

Mr.  Whittingham  colored  delicately.  "  I  ought  to 
confess,"  he  began,  in  a  somewhat  embarrassed  fashion, 
"  that  I  gave  her  five  dollars  the  last  time  I  was  here." 

"  How  could  you  have  been  so  short-sighted,  so  indis- 
creet ?"  Miss  Sherburne  cried  impatiently. 

"  It  was  foolish,  certainly."  Mr.  Whittingham  flushed 
with  mortification  at  the  remembrance  of  having  been 
cajoled  out  of  it  by  a  child's  persuasion. 

"  It  cannot  be  that  she  would  dare  defy  us  all  and  re- 
turn to  the  Murrays!"  Miss  Sherburne's  eyes  fairly 
blazed  with  anger.  "  She  must  have  had  more  money." 

Mr.  Whittingham  stood  silent  from  sheer  amazement. 
That  a  girl  of  thirteen,  knowing  so  little  of  the  world, 
should  undertake  such  a  journey  seemed  incredible  to 
him. 

"  I  wish  I  had  understood  Julius  a  little  more  explic- 
itly before  I  started,"  he  said,  with  evident  regret.  "  I 
should  have  telegraphed  at  once.  But  I  imagined  her 
lost  in  the  woods,  or  having  met  with  some  accident,  and 
I  knew  what  your  anxiety  must  be.  If  she  went  directly 
through,  she  will  be  there  this  morning." 

"  It  is  a  great  pity  one  could  not  allow  her  to  remain 
there,"  the  lady  commented  severely.  "If  this  is  a 
specimen  of  the  way  she  is  going  on  to  make  herself  no- 
torious, Sherburne  House  will  be  finely  disgraced  in  the 
eyes  of  the  world.  The  child  is  possessed  by  an  evil 
spirit.  You  cannot  trust  her." 

Mr.  Whittingham  essayed  to  soften  the  matter  a  little. 
And  he  was  reallv  worried. 


186  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

"  I  had  better  get  back  to  town  as  soon  as  possible 
and  telegraph.  Meanwhile,  you  will  continue  your 
search  ? ' ' 

"  Such  people  bear  charmed  lives,"  she  said,  with  in- 
tense bitterness.  "  They  go  through  all  dangers  un- 
harmed. Indeed  I  cannot  bring  myself  to  believe  that 
she  has  been  in  any  danger.  I  can  almost  hear  her 
laughing  at'  my  fears  in  her  impertinent  way." 

Mr.  Whittingham  drank  a  cup  of  coffee  and  mounted 
his  horse  again.  Miss  Sherburne  went  about  her  morn- 
ing's duties.  There  was  only  one  way  she  could  solve 
the  mystery,  and  presently  she  settled  to  that  with  a  cer- 
tain bitter  satisfaction.  She  rarely  left  any  money  lying 
about  not  under  lock  and  key.  But  she  remembered 
some  few  times  slipping  a  small  sum  in  the  corner  of  her 
dressing-case  drawer,  or  in  the  desk  downstairs.  That 
it  would  be  rather  an  impossibility  for  Dell  to  leave  the 
schoolroom  and  go  roaming  around  undetected  did  not 
occur  to  her.  She  did  not  shrink  with  any  sense  of  hor- 
ror at  considering  the  child  a  thief — it  was  what  one 
might  look  for,  that  or  any  other  disgrace. 

The  result  of  the  telegram  established  Mr.  Whitting- 
ham's  half-suspicion  and  relieved  him  immensely.  He 
sent  word  out  to  Sherburne  House,  also  that  he  would  pro- 
ceed to  New  York  that  very  evening,  hoping  in  his  inmost 
soul  that  Miss  Sherburne  would  not  propose  to  accom- 
'  pany  him.  Indeed  she  had  no  desire.  Nothing  would 
induce  her  to  meet  the  Murrays  again. 

Mr.  Whittingham  presented  himself  at  an  early  hour 
Monday  morning,  desirous  of  finding  Mr.  Murray,  and 
in  this  he  was  successful. 

"  We  were  so  relieved  to  learn  that  you  had  the  truant 
safe,"  said  the  visitor,  when  the  first  greetings  had 
passed.  "  I  hope  you  were  not  advised  beforehand  of 
li'^r  escapade,  and  in  no  way  abetted  it?  " 

"  You  should  know  us  better  and  judge  us  more  fairly, 


A    GRAVE  QUESTION.  187 

Mr.  Whittingham,"  was  the  grave  answer.  ••  We  were 
utterly  surprised." 

"  I  feel  that  you  must  be.  It  was  a  terrible  fright,  for 
no  one  supposed  the  child  had  enough  money  to  set  out 
on  such  a  journey.  It  was  a  great  mystery  how  she  ob- 
tained it." 

"I  think  she  can  explain  that  to  your  satisfaction. 
When  you  place  no  confidence  in  a  child,  when  you 
deliberately  show  her  that  you  will  not  depend  upon 
her  word,  you  are  not  likely  to  beget  confidence. 
You'll  find  in  a  little  while  that  the  child  can  outwit 
you." 

"  I  will  admit  frankly  that  I  do  not  altogether  approve 
of  my  friend's  methods,"  rejoined  Mr.  Whittingham. 
"  You  see  an  entirely  new  element  has  been  introduced, 
and  Miss  Sherburne  hardly  knows  how  to  deal  with  it. 
Changes  in  character  must  be  made  slowly,  and  violent 
opposition  always  rouses  the  like  quality,  or  is  fruitful  of 
deceit." 

Mr.  Murray  flushed  warmly.  "  I  have  not  discovered 
any  deterioration  in  regard  to  the  child's  truthfulness," 
he  replied  quickly.  "  She  is  as  frank  and  open  as  ever, 
but  her  fine  sense  of  honor  will  be  ruined  under  the 
treatment  to  which  it  is  subjected.  Miss  Sherburne 
struck  at  one  of  the  highest  virtues  in  the  human  soul 
when  she  tried  to  uproot  the  child's  grateful  remem- 
brance of  us.  I  told  you  both  you  couldn't  do  it.  Noth- 
ing will  ever  destroy  Lyndell  Sherburne's  loving  regard 
for  us.  Indeed,  nothing  ought.  Why,  look  you— was 
it  so  small  a  thing  to  care  for  her  mother,  to  give  her 
shelter  and  a  parent's  care  these  four  years?  It  would 
be  monstrous  ingratitude  to  forget.  And  her  mother  was 
the  most  grateful  creature  in  the  world.  You  never 
raised  a  finger  for  her  that  she  didn't  smile  as  graciously 
as  the  finest  queen  of  them  all.  But  to  take  a  child 
away  from  even-thins;  that  has  been  dear  and  pleasant 


188  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

and  sweet,  and  thrust  her  out  to  loneliness,  is  what  I  call 
cruel !  " 

"You  cannot  understand  both  sides,"  began  Mr. 
Whittingham  in  nervous  embarrassment. 

"  But  I  can  understand  truth  and  honor  and  kindliness 
and  sympathy,  and  they  tend  to  make  life  better;  "  in- 
terrupted Con  Murray,  with  indignant  warmth.  "  I 
know  the  child  wasn't  wanted,  but  she  had  the  right. 
They  pretend  they  loved  the  father  ;  they  punish  her  for 
the  father's  sin.  There  are  people  in  the  world  who  are 
always  wanting  to  help  deal  out  God's  judgments.  But 
they've  nothing  at  all  to  do  with  them.  And  if  this 
young  man  had  let  the  sweet,  pretty  girl  alone,  to  go  her 
own  way,  there  would  have  been  no  trouble.  But  hav- 
ing married  her,  I  should  have  been  ashamed  of  my 
whole  race  in  him,  if  he  had  been  less  loyal,  if  he  had 
done  any  less  than  try  for  her  happiness.  Now  why 
can't  these  people  of  yours  accept  the  facts  ?  The  child 
did  not  want  to  come  to  them.  She  has  a  good  right  to 
despise  their  pride  and  narrowness  and  ill-will  that,  per- 
haps, indirectly  made  her  an  orphan.  She  would  have 
gone  to  them  with  kindliest  impulses  if  they  had  given 
her  a  welcoming  smile,  treated  her  with  a  show  of  jus- 
tice  " 

"  I  think — when  time  has  worn  off  the  asperi- 
ties   " 

"  But  there  should  be  no  asperities  to  wear  off  as  far 
as  the  child  is  concerned.  If  she  was  vicious,  if  her 
associations  had  been  at  the  lowest  ebb  of  morality,  there 
might  be  some  excuse.  I'm  Irish,  to  be  sure,  and  I'm 
not  ashamed  of  it.  I'm  thinking  that  two  hundred  years 
agone  there  was  more  than  one  good  Irishman  came 
over  to  Virginia  and  the  Carolinas.  And  though  we've 
no  title  in  our  branch,  there  was  many  a  brave  soldier 
from  the  time  of  Boyne  Water  down,  and  they  always 
stood  up  for  honor  and  the  broader  liberty  of  conscience. 


A    GRAVE  QUESTION.  189 

So  I've  ancestors  in  plenty.  And  as  to  poverty,  my  bit 
of  land  here — Murray's  Row  as  we  call  it— could  be 
turned  into  a  fortune  to-morrow.  Miss  Sherburne  was  a 
bit  wild  when  she  put  us  down  to  the  bottom  of  things. 
Diamonds  lie  in  the  depths  of  sand  pits,  and  pearls  are 
fished  up  out  of  the  blackest  mud  at  times,  but  I  never 
heard  of  a  pretty  woman  refusing  them  for  that  cause." 
And  Con's  eyes  twinkled. 

"  My  dear  sir,  I  beg  of  you  not  to  take  that  too 
literally,"  the  visitor  pleaded. 

"  But  when  it's  thrust  at  you,  put  in  plain  black  and 
white,  as  if  somewhere  along  life  you  had  been  down  to 
the  lowest  depths !  I  saw  it  all  when  she  bound  me  to 
have  no  communication,  and  I  promised  ;  but  I  said  to 
myself,  'When  Dell  Sherburne's  a  woman  and  free, 
she'll  come  back  to  the  bosom  of  her  foster-mother  as 
swift  as  a  carrier  dove,'  and  I  was  willing  to  wait.  I 
don't  think  she  was  told  at  first  that  she  was  not  to  write, 
and  I'm  sorry  she  did  it  without  asking  permission. 
Then  Con,  that's  my  lad,  found  the  soft  spot  in  his 
mother's  heart  and  begged  to  write  just  once,  and  she 
let  him.  There  would  have  been  no  more  letters.  But 
the  madame  flies  at  me  like  some  wild  thing  and  ac- 
cused me  of  all  the  crimes  in  the  calendar !  I  took  no 
notice.  I  never  have  words  with  a  woman.  And  I  truly 
believed  that  the  end,  for  years  to  come.  Do  you  not 
think  we  should  long  to  hear  about  the  child  we  loved 
as  our  very  own  ?  " 

Mr.  Whittingham  changed  color  more  than  once 
through  Con's  fervent  harangue.  To  try  to  reinstate 
Miss  Sherburne  in  the  opinion  of  the  Murrays  would  be 
a  useless  endeavor.  He  could  not  make  them  under- 
stand the  fine  exclusive  pride  of  birth  that  had  been  in- 
stilled into  her  from  childhood,  and  intensified  by  her 
narrow  life  and  many  of  the  incidents  of  the  war.  Yet 
her  extreme  bitterness  to  the  child  was  something  quite 


190  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

foreign  to  her  nature.  She  had  ruled  the  household  and 
the  slaves,  and  she  had  the  old  ideas  of  keeping  people 
in  their  places  by  a  certain  austere  repression.  That 
Lyndell's  position  was  that  of  the  heiress  of  Sherburne 
House,  and  that  she  was  to  have  respect  shown  to  her  as  a 
real  descendant  of  the  young  man  so  loved  and  regretted, 
had  not  yet  forced  its  way  into  her  unwilling  soul.  He 
was  silent  from  very  perplexity. 

"  I  should  be  the  last  man,"  continued  Mr.  Murray, 
<(to  teach  a  child  to  hold  in  light  esteem  its  natural 
guardians.  And  I  understand  how  necessary  it  is  for 
Lyndell  to  be  won  to  her  own  people.  We  should  have 
trained  her  to  consider  them  more  seriously,  only  we 
were  afraid  of  putting  into  her  head  hopes  that  could 
never  be  realized.  We  never  doubted  that  Mrs.  Sher- 
burne believed  her  child  the  heir  to  some  fortune,  but 
there  are  so  many  queer  things  in  law,  and  at  first  we 
waited  to  hear.  You  see,  I  didn't  know  just  where  to 
write.  It's  been  an  unfortunate  business,  and  now  we 
ought  all  to  do  our  best  for  the  child." 

"  But  do  you  think  you  can  persuade  her  to  return 
without  a  great  deal  of  trouble?"  and  Mr.  Whitting- 
ham's  very  eyes  appealed  to  the  foster-father. 

"Return!"  Con  lifted  his  eyebrows,  and  his  lip 
curled  with  a  half  contempt  at  any  one  understanding 
Dell  so  poorly.  "She  hasn't  a  thought  of  staying." 
He  laughed  softly  in  pleased  triumph.  "  God  knows  I 
wish  we  could  keep  her !  But  she  knows  her  father's 
home  is  to  be  hers ;  and  while  she  frets  against  it,  she 
understands  that  her  relatives  have  the  legal  rights,  and 
that  we  may  not  at  present  make  even  the  claim  of 
friendship.  We  shall  not  do  it.  We  can  wait." 

Mr.  Whittingham  was  greatly  relieved.  If  Dell  would 
only  be  reasonable  ! 

"  I  hope  you  will  see  the  justice  of  standing  between 
her  and  any  bitter  displeasure  she  may  have  incurred. 


A    GRAVE  QUESTION.  191 

It  was  a  daring  thing — undertaken  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment,  but  the  plan  had  been  in  her  mind  some  time. 
If  you  want  a  kind,  gracious,  generous-hearted  woman, 
her  character  must  be  shaped  that  way  by  example," 
said  Mr.  Murray. 

Mr.  Whittingham  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Believe  me  that  I  have  not  entirely  approved  of  Miss 
Sherburne's  course,  though  it  was  difficult  to  interfere. 
I  shall  take  a  more  decided  stand  in  the  future.  I  want 
you  to  feel  that  you  can  trust  me  with  the  child  so 
dear  to  you  all.  I  shall  insist  upon  her  being  sent  to 
school." 

"That  would  be  better.  It's  cruel,  keeping  her  in 
such  bondage.  It's  like  catching  some  bright  wild 
creature  and  shutting  it  away  from  its  kind.  Punishing 
her  with  days  of  confinement  and  a  bit  of  bread — why,  I 
don't  wonder  she  ran  away  !  "  And  he  smiled.  "  It's 
the  outbreak  of  any  child  deprived  of  its  natural  liberty. 
But  she's  seen  us  all  and  she's  had  her  fling,  as  we  say, 
and  she  expects  to  face  the  result.  She  hasn't  begged 
to  stay.  She  has  not  suggested  that  any  one  shall  stand 
between  her  and  harm.  She  has  the  courage  of  a  boy. 
I  have  more  than  once  said  she  should  have  been  a 
boy." 

"That  would  have  simplified  matters  greatly.  There 
would  have  been  little  objection  to  her  in  that  case." 

"  So  you  punish  her  again  for  being  a  girl  !  "  said  Con 
humorously.  "That's  rather  hard,  seeing  it  wasn't  her 
fault.  But  some  man  will  harvest  a  tremendous  amount 
of  sweetness  if  it  doesn't  all  get  crushed  out  of  her,  and 
she  soured  by  the  process." 

"  She  shall  have  a  fair  chance  in  the  future— I  will  see 
to  that  myself,"  said  Mr.  Whittingham,  with  a  new 
decision  in  his  tone.  "  She  has  not  been  rightly  treated. 
And  I  cannot  sufficiently  express  my  admiration  of  you 
and  yours  for  the  honorable  and  kindly  course  you  have 


!«»•>  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

taken.  I  will  say  here  that  as  often  as  once  a  month  I 
\\ill  keep  you  informed  of  her  welfare.  I  realize  what  a 
great  sacrifice  Miss  Sherburne  asked  of  you." 

"  Thank  you,"  replied  Con.  "  May  be  I'm  a  bit  hot- 
headed, and  I  was  indignant  at  the  idea  of  a  girl  of  thir- 
teen being  subjected  to  such  rigorous  treatment  simply 
because  she  wasn't  made  on  some  other  person's  plan. 
I'll  trust  you  to  see  she  has  some  of  her  rights.  I  don't 
believe  the  Sherburnes  have  quite  all.  And  in  the  days 
to  come  there  may  be  some  Murray s  that  won't  shame 
even  Miss  Sherburne." 

Mr.  Whittingham  would  have  been  very  exigent  if  he 
had  not  admired  Con  Murray.  There  was  the  large- 
ness of  a  nature's  nobleman  about  him.  And  though  in 
his  narrow  circle  self-made  men  rarely  knocked  for  en- 
trance, he  acknowledged,  this  one  would  hardly  be 
refused  admittance  where  manliness  was  one  of  the 
requisites. 

"  May  I  see  Miss  Dell  ? "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  we  are  not  keeping  her  a  prisoner."  And 
he  laughed  genially,  as  he  opened  the  door  and  sum- 
moned her. 

Dell  entered  a  little  abashed.  She  raised  her  eyes 
with  a  half-shy,  irresistible  entreaty.  Mr.  Whittingham 
put  out  his  hand,  and  she  found  hers  taken  in  a  kindly 
clasp.  Already  she  was  half-forgiven. 

"  I  shall  leave  you  to  answer  for  your  own  sins," 
said  papa  Murray.  "  Only — must  she  leave  us  imme- 
diately ?  " 

"  No,"  returned  her  guardian.  "  I  have  a  matter  of 
business  on  hand,  and  we  will  not  start  until  to-morrow 
morning." 

"Then  I  will  leave  you  for  a  conference,"  said  Mr. 
Murray.  "  I  will  see  you  again  to-morrow."  And  he 
bowed  his  adieu. 

Dell  stood  bright-eyed,  daring,  yet  silent. 


A    GRAVE  QUESTION.  1«KJ 

••  You  gave  us  all  a  great  fright,"  began  Mr.  Whit- 
tingham.  "Julius  turned  out  and  scoured  the  woods , 
and  Miss  Sherburne  did  not  sleep  for  the  alarm." 

Dell  laughed  a  little,  a  doubtful,  half-inquiring  sort  of 
laugh. 

"  Do  you  suppose  any  one  would  have  cared  if  an  ac- 
cident had  happened  to  me  ?  That  is,  if  I  were  dead  ? 
They  would  have  Sherburne  House  then." 

"  My  child,  you  must  not  think  any  one  could  be  so 
utterly  heartless,"  he  said,  with  real  solicitude.  "  No 
one  desires  your  death.  For,  after  all,  the  whole  fam- 
ily knew  that  while  you  lived  they  had  no  claim.  And 
you  were  brought  to  your  rightful  home." 

"  But  I  could  see.  I  can  see  and  feel.  Does  any 
one  love  me  as  they  do  here  at  the  Murrays  ?  No, 
that  would  be  too  much  to  ask.  But,  Mr.  Whittingham, 
I  have  been  shown  so  plainly  that  I  was  an  interloper, 
that  I  was  unwelcome,  that  I  did  not  deserve  to  be 
treated  with  any  consideration.  And  those  who  had 
befriended  me  were  despised.  Everything  I  did  was 
•wrong.  Everything  I  had  learned  was  of  no  account." 
Dell's  bosom  heaved  and  her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  It  has  been  very  hard  for  you,"  he  said  gently.  "  I 
have  only  just  realized  how  hard.  But  we  shall  in- 
stitute a  new  order  of  things,  and  I  want  you  to  believe 
I  am  sufficiently  interested  in  you  to  study  your  welfare. 
If  you  choose,  you  shall  go  away  to  school." 

"I  do  choose.  In  school  I  should  rank  with  other 
scholars.  I  know  I  could  keep  my  place  ;"  she  ended 
proudly. 

"  How  had  you  the  courage  to  take  such  a  journey 
alone?"  he  inquired  with  a  half-smile,  in  spite  of  his 
gravity. 

"  Was  it  courage  ?  I  was  wild,  desperate !  Mr. 
Whittingham,  I  once  had  half  a  mind  to  throw  myself 
out  of  the  window  in  the  hope  that  it  would  kill  me. 


194  SHEBBUBNE  HOUSE. 

And  then  I  thought  they  would  have  Sherburne  House, 
and  be  really  happy  over  it.  And  now  I  am  resolved  to 
live.  But  it  was  rather — perhaps  I  am  very  bad  after 
all."  And  she  sighed.  "  I  do  not  call  it  real  bravery — 
it  was  daring,  a  defiance  of — of  Miss  Sherburne1  s  power. 
She  had  been  so  very  unjust  to  me  all  the  week.  I  had 
planned  it  so  many  times  when  I  was  miserable  and 
lonely,  that  it  seemed  as  if  I  knew  just  the  way." 

"  You  walked  over  to  Croziers  ?  " 

"  Yes.  And  there  was  no  difficulty  anywhere.  A 
very  kindly  woman  took  care  of  me.  I  do  not  think  it 
was — quite  fair  or  honest" — and  Dell's  head  drooped 
while  a  scarlet  flush  mounted  to  the  very  roots  of  her 
hair — "  to  use  the  money  you  gave  me — for  that  purpose 
— and  in  that  way." 

"  But  that  was  not  all  ?  " 

"  I  found  the  rest.  I  know  that  was  not  mine  either, 
and  as  soon  as  I  get  home  I  shall  try  to  discover  the 
owner."  She  had  a  vague  wish  that  Mr.  Whittingham 
might  help  her,  but  she  felt  that  Cassy  would  be  in  a 
better  position  so  to  do. 

"  That  is  right,"  he  replied.  He  was  glad  to  find  her 
so  amenable.  Then  he  told  her  she  would  have  another 
day's  respite,  and  she  was  delighted  beyond  measure. 

What  a  day  it  was  !  A  merry  party  went  down  to  the 
Park  and  had  a  delightful  sail,  and  no  end  of  fun 
donkey  riding.  Then  Aunt  Maggie  came  to  tea,  and 
what  with  all  the  babies  and  all  the  entertainment,  Dell 
was  tired  enough  to  drop  asleep  the  instant  her  head 
touched  the  pillow. 

And  though  she  was  brave  the  next  morning,  it  was  a 
hard  parting,  nevertheless.  She  realized  now  that  it 
might  be  years  before  she  would  see  them  again,  and  she 
had  sacredly  promised  papa  Murray  never  again  to  seek 
them  or  hold  any  intercourse  in  opposition  to  Miss  Sher- 
burne's  wishes. 


A    GRAVE  QUESTION.  195 

Densie  held  her  to  her  heart,  and  kissed  down  into  the 
wet  face  with  tremulous  lips. 

"Oh,  my  darling!"  she  cried,  "trust  the  good  Fa- 
ther, and  he  will  bring  it  all  out  right.  You'll  always  be 
our  very  own,  and  we  want  some  day  to  be  proud  of  our 
dear  daughter." 

Dell  could  only  answer  with  sobs. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  MEASURE  OF  COURAGE. 

MR.  WHITTINGHAM  found  during  the  first  part  of  the 
journey  as  quiet  a  traveling  companion  as  Dell  had 
proved  three  months  earlier.  He  covertly  watched  her 
eyes  overflow  and  thought  they  looked  like  wind-blown 
lakes.  How  curious  that  the  Murrays  brought  out 
only  what  was  sweet  and  noble  in  her !  They  had 
no  complaints  to  make.  And  yet  he  had  seen  chil- 
dren hanging  about  Miss  Sherburne's  neck,  kissing  her 
delicate  cheek,  almost  smothering  her  in  the  carriage. 
Certainly  she  had  never  objected  to  them,  and  the 
house  had  been  gay  with  grandchildren  during  Mr. 
Sherburne's  declining  years.  Was  it,  indeed,  the  secret 
unwillingness  to  accept  her  that  reacted  upon  the  child  ? 

Mr.  Whittingham  longed  to  say  something  that  would 
bring  Lyndell  Sherburne  into  friendly  relations  with 
himself.  But  he  had  never  known  girls  intimately. 
His  sister  had  married  and  gone  away  while  he  was 
yet  in  college.  He  and  his  mother  had  lived  together 
until  her  death,  not  many  years  before,  when  his  sister, 
now  a  widow  had  come  back  to  keep  his  house.  One 
son  was  in  Colorado,  married  ;  one  she  brought  with 
her,  a  quiet,  studious  lad  who  was  now  reading  law 
in  his  uncle's  office.  He  was  courteous  and  gentle  to 
all  womankind,  but  a  girl  was  an  unknown  quantity  to 
him. 

Dell  somehow  felt  curiously  tired.  She  was  going  to 
her  true  place  in  the  world,  to  fight  a  hard  battle,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  she  had  suddenly  lost  the  vim  of  belliger- 
1% 


THE  MEASURE   OF  COURAGE.  lit? 

ency.  Had  she  outgrown  the  desires  of  the  past?  She 
felt  merged  into  some  state  that  was  quite  new  ;  she  was 
not  at  home  in  it.  Neither  did  she  want  the  old  life. 
There  was  an  irritating  mental  struggle,  a  sense  of  having 
gone  past  the  children  in  Murray's  Row,  and  a  certain 
presentiment  of  having  bidden  them  good-bye  forever. 

She  had  not  hitherto  made  her  fortune  any  real  thing. 
She  saw  now  the  changes  it  must  bring  out  in  many  re- 
spects. It  drifted  her  to  quite  another  shore.  It  had 
duties  of  a  different  order  from  the  life  Dell  Murray  had 
known. 

All  the  latter  part  of  the  journey  a  friend  claimed 
Mr.  Whittingham's  attention.  Dell  felt  very  tired — 
and  was  glad  when  they  could  leave  the  train.  They 
went  to  a  hotel  and  had  some  dinner,  but  she  was  not 
hungry.  She  enjoyed  the  walk  afterward,  as  he 
pointed  out  many  places  of  interest.  He  found  her 
an  intelligent  companion,  abounding  in  bright  com- 
parisons. When  the  lamps  were  lighted,  she  was  eager 
in  her  enjoyment.  The  night  air  was  so  cool  and  de- 
lightful that  it  eased  her  throbbing  temples. 

Still,  she  felt  glad  to  goto  bed.  Perhaps  this  vague, 
stupid  feeling  was  the  reaction.  She  tossed  restlessly, 
she  slept  by  snatches,  and  woke  with  strange  impres- 
sions that  could  hardly  be  called  dreams.  Was  it 
because  she  dreaded  the  final  termination  of  her 
stolen  pleasure  ? 

She  looked  rather  heavy-eyed  the  next  morning, 
and  wanted  nothing  more  substantial  than  peaches 
and  melons.  Mr.  Whittingham  was  really  distressed 
about  her. 

"  I  want  you  to  look  upon  me  in  the  light  of  a  true 
friend,"  he  said  kindly  to  her.  "And  if  you  wish  to 
make  any  appeal  to  me,  do  not  be  afraid  so  to  do. 
Though  I  anticipate  being  forbidden  to  give  you  any 
more  monev  for  some  time  to  come." 


198  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

Dell  gave  a  faint  smile.  "  Perhaps  I  shall  not  want 
any,"  she  said  listlessly,  "  unless  I  go  to  school.  And 
I  shall  always,  I  think,  tell  you  just  what  I  wish  to  do 
with  it." 

"I  shall  be  pleased  with  the  confidence.  Do  you 
want  to  tell  me  just  how  you  found  that  money — 
you  merely  said  you  found  it." 

"  I  should  like  to."  Dell  slipped  a  little  nearer  to 
him,  and  considered.  "  Would  you  be  compelled  to 
tell  Miss  Sherburne  ?  " 

"  Not  if  you  desired  it  kept  secret." 

"And  then  she  would  be  very  angry.  Perhaps  I  had 
better  not,"  she  said  gravely.  "  I  want  to  make  one 
attempt  to  discover  the  owner,  but  not  through  her. 
And  I  am  afraid  she  would  not  believe  me  if  I  told 
her  the  exact  truth." 

"You  have  never  told  her  anything  but  the  truth?" 
he  inquired,  in  a  little  alarm. 

"I  have  never  told  her  any  falsehoods."  And  Dell 
raised  her  serious  eyes  that  somehow  looked  pathetic 
this  morning.  "  I  am  afraid  I  have  done  things — papa 
Murray  did  not  consider  them  quite  right.  At  home, 
you  know,  mamma  was  not  always  cutting  off  pleasures 
and  shutting  you  up  alone  for  punishment.  And  if  we 
had  any  doubt,  we  were  not  afraid  to  ask  her.  She 
liked  to  have  us  happy."  And  Dell  sighed. 

"  I  hope  you  are  going  to  be  happy  again.  You 
must  try  to  make  yourself  as  much  loved  at  Sher- 
burne   " 

"  There  would  need  to  be  people  to  love  me,"  she 
said  archly,  as  he  paused. 

Then  they  took  their  morning  journey  and  arrived 
at  Ardmore  in  due  time.  The  Sherburne  carriage  was 
there,  driven  by  Julius,  the  mistress  sitting  in  the  ut- 
most state.  She  leaned  out  a  little  and  held  her  hand 
toward  Mr.  Whittingham. 


THE  MEASURE   OF  COURAGE.  199 

"  I  knew  your  time  would  be  valuable  to  you  this 
morning,"  she  said,  "so  I  drove  over.  I  could  not 
be  quite  sure  that  you  would  be  a  match  for  the  Mur- 
rays,  single-handed.  Was  the  conflict  very  sharp? 
Of  course  the  affair  was  of  their  planning  ?  And  I  sus- 
pect Miss  Hendricks  had  a  hand  in  it." 

"You  quite  misjudge  them  all,"  he  returned  gravely. 
"  And  I  had  no  trouble  whatever.  They  have  shown 
the  utmost  consideration.  I  must  have  a  long  talk  with 
you.  Will  this  afternoon  be  agreeable  to  you?"  And 
there  was  a  slight  imperativeness  in  his  tone. 

"Any  time.  And  I  have  solved  the  mystery  of  the 
money,"  with  a  bitter  smile,  bending  a  little  lower  so 
that  no  one  could  hear.  "  It  is  simply  shameful,  mon- 
strous !  " 

Julius  had  assisted  Dell  into  the  carriage,  and 
taken  his  own  seat.  Now  his  mistress  gave  him  a 
signal. 

"  Do  not  be  hasty  or  unjust,  I  beg  of  you,"  entreated 
Mr.  Whittingham  as  they  drove  away. 

She  had  vouchsafed  one  cold  nod  to  Dell.  Now 
she  took  no  notice  whatever  of  her.  Dell  sat  silent, 
her  head  was  aching,  and  there  was  a  queer  feeling  as 
if  her  soul  had  wandered  off  into  vague  space,  and  only 
a  dull,  nerveless  body  was  left  here  to  fight  the  battle. 

It  was  a  soft,  sunless  day,  with  perhaps  a  touch  of 
coming  storm  in  the  air.  How  lovely  and  inviting  every- 
thing looked.  If  the  trees  would  only  take  her  in  their 
fragrant  arms !  No  one  would  hold  her  or  caress  her 
again  for  such  a  long,  long  time.  They  turned  the  curve 
in  the  avenue.  Was  that  the  window  out  of  which  she 
had  stepped  only  a  few  days  ago,  full  of  eager,  defiant 
resolves  ?  How  long  it  seemed  ! 

They  were  handed  out.  A  few  faces  were  peering 
curiously.  Miss  Sherburne  merely  said — "Go  up- 
stairs." 


200  SHEKBUJiXE  HOUSE. 

Dell  went  indifferently.  Nothing  seemed  to  matter 
much.  Gassy  sat  sewing  in  Miss  Sherburne's  room. 
She  sprang  up  with  a  cry  that  had  a  throb  of  relief 
in  it. 

"Oh,  Miss  Dell!  And  you  have  really  returned!  I 

was  afraid And  how  could  you  dare  venture  on 

such  a  journey  !  We  were  frightened  almost  out  of  our 
wits  !  And  you  might  have  been  murdered  — 

Dell  laughed,  with  careless  scorn.  "  I  am  nearer  be- 
ing murdered  now,"  she  said. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Dell — I  wouldn't  stand  in  your  shoes  for  a 
world  !  Did  your  friends  send  you  the  money  ?  " 

There  was  an  eager,  strained  look  in  Cassy's  eyes. 

"My  friends  ?  No.  They  are  innocent  of  any  part  in 
the  matter.  No  one  counselled  me  or  assisted  me  in  the 
slightest." 

"But  how  did  you  get  the  money?  Oh,  Miss  Dell, 
you  surely  never  took  what  did  not  belong  to  you  !  " 
and  there  was  a  wild  sort  of  terror  in  Cassy's  voice. 

"If  you  mean  that  I  stole  the  money,"  and  Dell's  eyes 
were  black  with  rising  temper,  "  I  do  not  know  who  I 
could  steal  it  from ' 

"  I  can  attend  to  this  matter,  Cassy,"  said  Miss  Sher- 
burne,  with  austere  dignity.  Her  first  impulse  was  to 
dismiss  Cassy,  then  she  turned  to  Dell,  who  still  stood 
there  with  her  hat  on.  The  flame  of  passion  had  died 
down,  and  there  was  a  curious  ashen  pallor. 

"  Yes,  Miss  Lyndell  Sherburne,  I  demand  to  know  how 
you  obtained  the  money  you  used  for  your  journey  ?  " 

Dell  was  dully  silent.  She  feared  that  her  story  had 
an  air  of  improbability.  If  Miss  Sherburne  did  not  be- 
lieve her — and  there  seemed  small  encouragement  in  the 
stern,  icy  face. 

Miss  Sherburne  had  brooded  over  her  idea  so  continu- 
ally ;  she  had  been  offended,  too,  that  Dell  was  allowed 
an  extra  day.  A  stern  reckoning  it  was  now  to  be. 


THE  MEASURE  OF  COURAGE.  201 

"  You  will  not  tell,  you  shameless,  despicable  girl ! 
How  dare  you  disgrace  an  honorable  family  by  such 
lawless,  defiant  proceedings  !  You  have  ruined  yourself 
for  life.  You  deserve  to  b«  placed  in  some  penal  institu- 
tion. Confess,  wretched  girl,  who  your  accomplices 
were,  that  they  too  may  be  punished.  The  arm  of  justice 
can  reach  a  long  distance,  you  will  find." 

"  I  had  no  accomplices,"  Dell  returned  sullenly.  "  I 
went  while  Cassy  was  at  dinner.  No  one  saw  me.  No 
one  helped  me." 

"And  the  money?"  Miss  Sherburne's  eyes  were 
fastened  on  her  with  a  triumphant  glitter  that  seemed  to 
transfix  the  child. 

"I  would  rather  not  tell  you  just  now,"  Dell  an- 
swered, in  a  curiously  measured  tone. 

"  You  cannot !  "  with  a  bitter  emphasis.  "  You  shrink 
from  blazoning  your  shame,  your  pitiful  dishonesty. 
Well — I  will  tell  you.  Little  by  little,  as  you  found 
drawers  and  boxes  open,  you  abstracted  that  money  !  I 
had  not  lived  with  thieves,  so  I  took  no  extra  precautions. 
Like  the  sly,  stealthy  creature  that  you  are,  you  planned 
and  made  all  ready,  and  watched  your  opportunity 
You  salved  your  conscience  with  the  thought  that,  since 
you  were  the  future  heiress  of  Sherburne  House,  you  had 
a  right  to  anything  you  could  lay  your  hands  on.  But 
you  will  find  that  you  had  no  claim  on  my  money.  And 
you  will  carry  this  brand  of  a  thief  all  your  life  long  !  I 
wonder  you  do  not  sink  to  the  floor  at  my  very  feet,  at 
thus  seeing  your  humiliating  perfidy  unearthed.  You 
have  no  shame,  no  sense  of  honor.  The  kind  of  creature 
your  mother  must  have  been,  I  can  faintly  imagine  !  " 

Dell  had  stood  horror-stricken.  If  Miss  Sherburne 
had  missed  money,  nothing  but  the  real  ownership  of  her 
fifteen  dollars  ever  could  exonerate  her.  And  Miss 
Sherburne  would  take  no  steps  toward  that  end,  since 
she  claimed  the  money.  Then  her  high  courage  came 


202  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

to  the  front.  She  was  deadly  pale,  and  every  pulse 
throbbed  and  trembled  so  that  she  could  scarcely  stand. 
Her  eyes  were  balls  of  dark,  lurid  fire,  and  she  fixed 
them  steadily  on  her  persecutor. 

"  You  believe  I  stole  your  money  ?  "  Her  voice  was 
clear,  and  terrible  in  the  lack  of  any  expression  of  out- 
ward anger.  "  I  took  no  money  from  this  house  on 
which  you  could  have  the  slightest  claim.  When  you 
call  me  a  thief,  you  utter  a  falsehood  that  I  shall  never 
forgive  to  my  latest  hour.  I  shall  always  hate  you  !  Do 
you  not  suppose  that  I  know  I  am  entitled  to  something 
beyond  mere  food  and  shelter,  that  you  have  no  real 
right  to  keep  me  a  prisoner,  to  half  starve  me,  to  ac- 
cuse me  of  crimes  of  which  I  never  even  dreamed  ! 
You  treat  me  as  if  I  were  a  slave,  an  outcast  forced 
upon  your  charity.  There  are  no  slaves  now."  And 
she  laughed  scornfully.  "  You  hardly  dare  murder  me, 
I  think " 

The  room  seemed  to  whirl  around  and  turn  dark  be- 
fore Dell's  eyes,  and  a  horrible  misgiving  seized  her. 
What  if  Miss  Sherburne  had  lost  the  money  ! 

The  lady  stood  dumfounded  for  a  moment.  Never 
had  she  imagined  such  effrontery,  such  bravado.  She 
had  expected  to  overwhelm  Lyndell  by  the  knowledge 
of  her  turpitude,  and  she  still  stood  there  defying  her. 
Conquer,  she  must. 

"  All  this  fanfaronade  does  not  explain  away  your 
crime,"  she  went  on,  with  haughty,  withering  scorn. 
"  You  are  an  insolent,  untruthful,  dishonest  girl.  You 
are  not  to  be  trusted  out  of  one's  sight,  and  you  never 
will  be  again.  I  had  not  counted  on  your  being  hon- 
orable enough  to  confess  your  fault,  so  your  course  does 
not  really  surprise  me.  But  you  will  find  that  I  am  not 
to  be  trifled  with.  There  will  be  no  moment  in  the  future 
in  which  you  will  not  be  under  my  own,  or  Cassy's  eyes." 

Dell's  strength  seemed  suddenly  waning.     There  was 


THE  MEASURE  OF  COURAGE.  203 

a  sound  in  her  ears  as  if  she  had  been  plunged  into  the 
depths  of  the  sea.  A  thief!  That  was  what  she  had 
been  called  by  the  woman  who  had  no  right  over  her, 
who  was  living  in  her  house  and  denying  her  the  free- 
dom of  it.  The  very  air  rayed  off  sparks.  Miss  Sher- 
burne  seemed  to  assume  gigantic  proportions  and  sweep 
down  upon  her.  She  was  sick,  dizzy  !  She  tried  to 
scream  but  her  throat  was  like  ashes,  her  tongue  stiff. 
Then  all  was  dark. 

Cassy  sprang  up.  Dell  had  struck  her  head  against 
the  corner  of  the  chair  as  she  went  down.  She  was  mar- 
ble white,  her  lips  a  compressed  blue  line. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  she. has  fainted  or  is  sham- 
ming," said  Miss  Sherburne  coldly.  "  She  is  such  a  per- 
fect mistress  of  deception.  Lay  her  on  the  bed.  After 
such  a  tramp  and  this  lawless  indulgence  I  should  think 
she  would  be  tired  out." 

Cassy  carried  her  to  her  own  bed.  She  soon  revived, 
but  she  glanced  around  in  a  dazed  manner,  then  shut  her 
eyes  and  drew  a  long,  sighing  breath. 

"  Give  her  a  bath,"  Miss  Sherburne  commanded,  with 
sharp  authority.  "  Then  you  may  as  well  put  her  to  bed. 
1  forbid  you  to  say  one  word  to  her  more  than  absolute 
necessity  requires.  She  shall  be  watched  as  a  cat  watches 
a  mouse.  I  will  not  have  her  running  around  like  a 
ploughboy.  She  shall  learn  to  conduct  herself  decently 
and  not  disgrace  us  all." 

Cassy  was  left  alone  with  the  child.  She  began  to  dis- 
robe her,  but  Dell  paid  no  attention.  In  the  bath  she 
shuddered,  and  clung  to  Cassy  with  a  pitiful  cry.  Then 
she  was  put  in  fresh  garments. 

"  I  should  like  to  go  to  bed,"  she  said  weakly.  All 
her  energy  had  left  her.  She  was  so  tired,  she  ached  so 
all  over.  Oh,  what  was  the  matter? 

"Will  you  get  me  a  drink?"  And  she  turned  her 
dulled  eyes  to  Cassy. 


204  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

"Oh,  Miss  Dell,  surely  you  are  not  going  to  be  ill?" 
cried  Cassy,  with  concern.  "There,  lie  do\vn." 

"The  water  tastes  bitter.  Oh,  you  don't  suppose  any 
one  would  poison  me  ?  "  she  cried  tremulously. 

"There,  dear,  there,"  said  the  soft  voice  soothingly. 

The  next  moment  she  had  dropped  asleep.  Hou  like 
death  she  looked  !  Cassy  was  frightened,  and  waited 
anxiously  for  Miss  Sherburne's  return. 

"She  looks  ill,"  the  girl  said,  in  an  apprehensive 
"tone. 

"  I  should  think  she  would  be,  after  racing  around  the 
country  like  a  crazy  thing,"  was  the  reply  in  a  hard, 
pitiless  tone.  "  Sleep  will  do  her  the  most  good." 

Lyndell  slept  on  and  on.  She  scarcely  stirred.  Miss 
Sherburne  attended  to  her  duties,  and  severely  dis- 
couraged any  inquiry  on  the  part  of  the  servants.  Mr. 
Whittingham  came  quite  early  in  the  afternoon.  Truth 
to  tell,  he  was  ill  at  ease  concerning  his  ward. 

"Lyndell  has  gone  to  bed,"  Miss  Sherburne  said,  in 
answer  to  his  solicitude.  "She  was  tired  to  death,  and 
is  asleep.  What  could  one  expect  after  such  adven- 
tures ?  " 

"  Did  you  question  her  any  ?  " 

"  I  did.  She  replied  in  her  usual  insufferable,  insolent 
manner.  She  really  glories  in  her  escapade.  What  is  to 
be  done  with  the  child  puzzles  me  !  " 

Her  tone  Vvas  hard  to  the  verge  of  indifference. 

"You  said  you  had  some  suspicion?  The  Murrays 
seemed  to  think  there  was  nothing  very  wrong — "  and 
he  hesitated,  flushed  a  trifle. 

"I  suppose  not."  Miss  Sherburne  cut  off  her  words 
sharply.  "  I  told  you  I  had  solved  the  mystery.  The 
child  has  watched  her  opportunities,  and  abstracted  small 
sums  as  she  has  found  my  desk  open.  It  would  not 
surprise  me  if  she  had  also  taken  some  from  Miss  Hend- 
ricks." 


THE  MEASURE  OF  COURAGE.  205 

Mr.  Whittingham  was  horror-stricken. 

"Surely,  Miss  Sherburne,  you  must  be  mistaken!  I 
cannot  credit  such  a  thing  !  Had  you  missed  any  sums?  " 

Miss  Sherburne  colored,  with  a  sort  of  inward  up- 
braiding. She  had  not  gone  strictly  over  her  accounts. 
Neither  could  she  say  that  she  had  positively  missed  any 
money,  or  had  any  particular  date  for  her  losses.  Yet 
she  was  certain  it  must  be  so,  and  was  so  angry  at  the 
girl's  defiance  that  she  would  not  try  to  unearth  any  proof 
to  the  contrary. 

"  I  taxed  her  with  it,"  she  said,  "and  she  could  give 
no  explanation.  She  showed  every  sign  of  guilt.  Of 
course  this  is  a  delicate  matter,  and  I  shall  not  bruit  it 
abroad.  But  in  future  I  shall  take  great  care  that  she  has 
no  opportunities." 

"I  have  given  the  matter  serious  consideration,"  he 
began  gravely.  "  She  is  a  great  tax  on  your  time  and 
patience,  and  she  would  be  better  with  companions  of 
her  own  age.  I  think  I  can  convince  Mr.  Beaumanoir 
that  she  needs  the  regular  discipline  and  incentives  of 
school " 

"  School !  "  the  lady  interrupted.  "  Companions  !  She 
would  ruin  every  child  with  whom  she  came  in  contact. 
She  would  disgrace  us  all  openly  before  she  had  finished 
her  first  term.  I  would  not  trust  her  out  of  my  sight — I 
never  shall  again." 

"Perhaps  you  are  a  little  embittered,"  he  returned, 
much  distressed.  "The  Murrays  found  no  fault  with 
her.  It  has  been  hard,  I  admit,  to  take  in  an  utter 
stranger,  and  it  has  been  as  trying  for  her  among 
strangers.  My  dear  madam,  I  beg  of  you  to  consider 
many  points."  Then  he  paused,  perplexed  as  to  how  he 
could  best  present  his  case. 

"  You  will  grant  that  I  have  had  considerable  experi- 
ence with  children,"  she  said  loftily.  "And  this  is  cer- 
tain—I will  not  risk  any  future  disgrace.  I  have  had 


206  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

enough  of  wild  pranks.  For  the  present  I  shall  keep  the 
child  entirely  under  my  control." 

"  At  least,  you  will  allow  me  to  see  her  ?  "  he  inquired 
courteously.  If  she  came  down  he  might  persuade  her 
to  some  explanation.  He  was  very  much  afraid  it  would 
not  be  honorable  ;  but  it  was  best  to  have  it  over,  to  know 
the  worst. 

"  Oh,  if  she  cares  to  come  " — indifferently.  She  rang 
the  bell  and  summoned  Cassy. 

"  Dress  Miss  Dell,  and  send  her  down,"  was  the  per- 
emptory order. 

"  She  is  asleep,"  replied  Cassy,  then  added  hesitatingly  : 
*'  She  does  not  seem  at  all  well." 

"  Shall  I  have  her  roused?"  to  Mr.  Whittingham. 

"Oh,  no!  "  rubbing  his  hands  rather  nervously.  Yet 
he  regretted  it  extremely. 

He  did  not  remain  much  longer,  for  he  saw  that  it  was 
quite  impossible  to  reason  with  his  hostess,  and  he  did 
not  wish  to  quarrel. 

"She  seems  very  feverish,"  said  Cassy,  when  Miss 
Sherburne  entered  the  room. 

"  Of  course  it  will  take  her  some  days  to  get  over  the 
excitement,  but  such  rugged  constitutions  soon  recuper- 
ate," returned  the  lady  carelessly. 

Dell  lay  there  half  asleep,  unable  to  think  consecutively. 
She  tried  to  rouse  and  remember  where  she  wished  to  go. 
What  was  this  band  around  her  head  ;  this  heat,  as  of 
some  dreadful  fire?  Then  all  was  dark  and  cool  again. 
She  was  threading  her  way  through  the  woods  in  mortal 
terror  of  dogs.  Then  she  was  lost  in  a  crowd,  stifled, 
crushed,  gasping  for  breath 

With  evening  a  soft  rain  set  in.  Miss  Sherburne 
moved  about  uneasily.  What  was  to  be  done  with  this 
contumacious  girl  to-morrow  ?  What  if  this  lawless  ad- 
venture should  bring  about  a  scandal  !  She  had  heard 
of  wild  young  women  doing  desperate  things  and  ruining 


THE  MEASURE  OF  COURAGE.  207 

their  good  names,  eloping  with  some  ignoble  schemer. 
Such  a  girl  would  be  only  too  ready  to  throw  herself  into 
the  arms  of  any  man  who  pretended  to  care  for  her.  The 
future  loomed  black  with  horrible  phantoms  that  made 
her  shudder. 

She  went  to  her  desk  and  commenced  a  note  to  Mrs. 
Beaumanoir,  begging  her  to  make  the  closest  inquiries 
about  Mrs.  Fanshawe  and  learn  whether  she  was  a  per- 
son of  experience  and  authority.  She  could  hardly  de- 
cide whether  to  explain  the  escapade  or  not.  Then  she 
tried  to  go  over  her  accounts.  She  kept  them  scrupu- 
lously, and  she  had  a  misgiving  that  she  must  have 
missed  even  a  few  dollars.  But  her  head  ached,  her 
nerves  were  all  unstrung,  and  she  closed  her  desk  with 
a  kind  of  impatient  weariness. 

Cassy  had  given  Dell  a  composing  draught,  and  she 
was  sleeping  heavily.  There  was  some  fever,  but  it  did 
not  appear  alarming.  After  much  perplexed  cogitation 
Miss  Sherburne  dismissed  Cassy  and  retired,  leaving  the 
door  open  between  the  rooms. 

She  had  drowsed  off  when  something  startled  her.  She 
sprang  up  in  bed.  Lyndell  was  cautiously  stealing 
through  the  room,  her  hands  outstretched. 

"Lyndell,  what  do  you  mean?"  Miss  Sherburne 
caught  her  by  the  arm,  shaking  her  roughly. 

The  girl  turned  and  stared  with  glazed,  desperate  eyes. 
Her  face  was  strangely  swollen  and  flushed  a  dull  scar- 
let, her  lips  livid. 

"I  am  going  away."  And  she  gave  a  shrill  laugh. 
"  You  want  Sherburne  House  for — for  some  one — I 
can't  remember.  Papa  Murray  will  tell  me.  And  you 
shan't  starve  me.  You  have  no  right 

"  Go  back  to  bed  this  moment  !  " 

"  Why,  I  am  going  to  run  away  !  "  She  laughed  in  a 
weak,  confused  fashion  and  put  her  hand  to  her  head.. 
still  staring  at  Miss  Sherburne. 


208  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

Was  she  delirious,  or  was  this  merely  acting? 

"Yes — I  have  the  money  all  safe.  She  shall  not 
starve  me  !  How  far  is  it  ?  I  am  so  tired,  and  if  I  can- 
not reach  Croziers  before  the  train  goes " 

She  stood  immovable.  Miss  Sherburne  summoned 
Cassy. 

"  O  Edward,"  she  groaned.  "  If  you  could  see  the 
result  of  your  wretched  marriage  !  " 

Cassy  took  Dell's  arm  gently. 

"Will  you  get  my  ticket?"  she  inquired  cautiously. 
"  I  had  better  not  be  seen." 

"Yes,  this  way."     Cassy  led  her  back  to  bed. 

"  Oh,"  she  shrieked,  "  don't  let  her  come  near  me  ! 
Don't  let  her  look  at  me  with  her  cruel  eyes !  I  hated 
them  when  I  first  saw  them  !  " 

Cassy  waved  Miss  Sherburne  away.  She  soothed  and 
caressed  her  with  gentle  touches,  and  some  time  later 
Dell  fell  into  a  heavy  sleep. 

Miss  Sherburne  sat  by  the  window  and  listened  to  the 
drip  and  patter  of  the  leaves. 

"  I  am  silly  to  allow  that  child's  unreasoning  chatter 
to  disturb  me."  She  gave  herself  a  sort  of  mental  pull- 
ing together.  "  No  one  can  be  quite  safe  from  her  hor- 
rible tongue.  The  Murrays  suggested  it,  no  doubt." 
She  shivered  with  an  inward  fear.  Surely,  she  had  not 
desired  Dell's  life — she  could  truthfully  say  she  had 
never  dreamed  of  her  dying.  That  there  were  secret 
stabs  and  wounds  given  in  the  name  of  discipline,  that 
there  might  be  slow  spiritual  and  mental  starvation 
that  sapped  both  body  and  mind  she  did  not  consider. 
She  justified  herself  in  her  own  course,  she  had  even 
made  it  a  matter  of  conscience.  She  had  resolved 
to  sacrifice  her  own  ease  and  comfort — that  did  not 
look  like  wishing  the  child  out  of  the  way.  If  Dell 
had  followed  her  mother,  there  would  have  been 
small  lamentation,  but  now  they  were  all  bound  to 


THE  MEASURE  OF  COURAGE.  209 

make  the  best  of  it— if  there  was  any  best,  she  thought 
grimly. 

How  long  it  was  before  morning  dawned  !  Dell  alter- 
nated between  restlessness  and  stupor.  Before  it  was 
barely  light  Miss  Sherburne  roused  Julius,  and  de- 
spatched him  for  the  doctor.  Surely  Dell  should  receive 
all  needful  care. 

The  rain  ceased,  though  the  sky  was  full  of  low-lying 
clouds.  A  curious  something  pervaded  the  house.  She 
would  not  entertain  any  dismal  presentiments.  Of  course 
the  child  would  get  well.  She  was  overtired,  she  had 
been  tremendously  excited,  and  run  wild  while  in  New 
York.  She  was  strong  and  healthy. 

While  she  was  waiting  for  breakfast,  Miss  Sherburne 
completed  her  accounts  with  a  sort  of  secret  dismay. 
There  was  no  discrepancy.  No  sum,  small  or  large, 
was  missing.  Perhaps  she  might  have  forgotten  to  en- 
ter some  amount.  Where  else  could  Dell  have  obtained 
the  money?  It  was  bitter,  indeed,  to  think  of  a  thief  in 
an  unstained  old  family  ;  and  it  was  equally  mortifying 
to  imagine  that  she  should  have  guessed  wrongly. 

She  did  not  realize  how  far  she  had  allowed  her  preju- 
dices to  sway  her.  She  would  have  been  truly  shocked 
had  the  scales  fallen  from  her  eyes.  Her  life  had  been 
severely  upright.  She  had  loved  her  own  with  undenia- 
ble tenderness.  She  would  have  made  any  sacrifice  for 
them.  And  under  certain  conditions  she  could  have 
been  gracious  to  Lyndell 

Then  a  sudden  scream  roused  her. 

"  Take  me  away,"  Dell  cried  frantically.  "Take  me 
to  my  own  dear  Mamma  Murray  !  " 

Dinah  rushed  upstairs,  unbidden.  Cassy  was  strug- 
gling with  the  poor  girl,  who  had  again  leaped  out  of 
bed. 

"Pore  chile!  Pore  lamb!  Her  han's  is  all  burnin' 
up  wid  fever.  She's  an  awful  sick  chile,  an'  no  mis- 


210  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

take!"  And  the  stronger  woman  carried  her  back  to 
bed.  But  Dell  seemed  to  feel  Miss  Sherburne's  pres- 
ence, and  raved  like  a  wild  creature.  The  poor  lady 
was  quite  distraught.  She  went  down  on  the  porch,  and 
awaited  the  coming  of  the  doctor  with  the  utmost  anxiety. 

Dinah  soothed  the  child  and  bound  plantain  leaves  on 
her  wrists  and  feet,  the  remedy  in  which  she  placed  un- 
bounded faith.  Cassy  bathed  her  throbbing  temples, 
and  presently  she  subsided  into  unquiet  moanings,  as  she 
lay  with  her  eyes  half  open. 

"That's  the  doctor!  "  cried  Cassy,  as  she  heard  the 
tramp  of  the  horse's  feet. 

Dinah  looked  and  nodded  her  head  with  serious  sig- 
nificance. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW. 

Miss  SHERBURNE  went  forward  to  meet  Doctor  Carew. 
He  was  a  man  of  fine  presence,  shrewd  but  kindly  eyes, 
and  a  rather  humorous  expression  of  face.  He  had 
known  Edward  Sherburne  and  considered  him  a  foolisli 
young  fellow,  to  throw  upliome  and  adoring  relatives  for 
the  sake  of  one  girl,  when  there  were  so  many  delightful 
girls  in  the  world.  He  had  been  extremely  sorry  for  his 
death  before  the  breach  was  healed.  He  had  a  very 
strong  feeling  that  the  widow  and  child  should  be 
brought  home,  but,  as  all  the  family  seemed  agreed  on 
the  opposite  course,  he  was  not  called  upon  to  advise. 
Mr.  Sherburne's  illness  had  rendered  him  incapable,  later 
on,  of  taking  any  important  step  in  the  case. 

Sympathy  had  certainly  been  on  the  side  of  the 
family.  Leonard  Beaumanoir  was  a  great  favorite,  and 
it  seemed  a  shame  that  such  a  fine  young  fellow  should 
be  crowded  out  of  Sherburne  House.  After  Lyndell's 
arrival  an  impression  had  gone  abroad  that  she  was  not 
quite  presentable,  that  there  was  low  birth  on  the  one 
side  and  questionable  associations  ;  that  she  was  indeed 
quite  a  savage,  and  must  be  tamed  before  she  could  be 
allowed  much  liberty.  Miss  Carew  had  been  over  to 
call,  but  she  had  not  seen  the  child.  The  doctor  was 
too  much  engrossed  to  pay  attention  to  neighborhood 
gossip. 

Now  Miss  Sherburne  made  a  few  brief  explanations 
concerning  the  child's  wild  journey,  at  which  the  doctor 
gave  a  rather  prolonged  ejaculation  that  partook  of  the 

211 


212  SHEBBURNE  HOUSE. 

nature  of  a  whistle.  She  cited  the  fatigue,  the  ungov- 
ernable temper,  the  utterly  undisciplined  nature,  and  the 
result,  which  was  a  fever. 

They  slowly  ascended  the  stairs.  The  child  was 
tossing  restlessly,  and  though  her  eyes  turned  a  moment 
toward  the  strange  figure,  she  evinced  no  comprehen- 
sion. He  stood  there  gravely,  testing  temperature  and 
pulse,  making  examinations  into  her  apparent  physical 
conditions.  Her  flesh  was  flabby,  and  she  showed  great 
depression. 

"Looks  like  a  rather  serious  case,"  he  announced 
quietly.  "  Do  you  know  if  there  was  violence  used  to 
compel  her  to  return  ?  ' ' 

"  Mr.  Whittingham  did  not  mention  any  such  pro- 
ceeding," she  answered  indifferently. 

"Whittingham  !  Oh,  yes  ;  he  is  one  of  the  executors." 
And  the  doctor  resolved  to  see  him.  "  It  is  brain  fever, 
and  she  has  had  some  shock  upon  a  rather  enfeebled 
physical  state." 

"  Doctor,  she  has  the  strength  and  energy  of  a  dozen 
children,  the  rudest  sort  of  health." 

"  She  may  have  had — she  hasn't  it  now.  There  is  not 
as  much  to  work  on  as  I  should  like.  Still,  we  will  do 
our  best.  I  should  advise  you  to  cut  her  hair — she  will 
lose  it  in  any  event.  Who  is  to  do  the  nursing?" 

Dell  had  moved  a  little.  She  suddenly  opened  her 
eyes  wide,  and  they  encountered  Miss  Sherburne.  Ut- 
tering a  wild  shriek,  she  sprang  into  Cassy's  arms. 

"Take  her  away!"  she  cried,  in  a  terrified  tone. 
"  Take  her  away  !  She  will  shut  me  up  in  the  dark!  " 

The  doctor  motioned  the  lady  aside  and  soothed  Lyn- 
dell,  gently  laying  her  down  again. 

"That  is  nothing  uncommon,"  he  said  reassuringly, 
as  a  spasm  of  undefined  terror  seized  Miss  Sherburne. 

"  Oh,  doctor,"  she  cried,  "  you  will  save  her,  you  must 
save  her  !  Have  everything,  do  everything  to  the  utter- 


JN   THE    VALLEF  OF  THE  SHADOW.         213 

most.  You  believe  that  none  of  us  desire  to  profit  by 
her  death?"  She  must  rehabilitate  her  conscience  by 
this  protest.  And  if  the  child  went  on  accusing  her  of 
murder ! 

"  My  dear  madam,  we  know  all  you  Sherburnes  too 
well.  Do  not  excite  yourself.  You  will  be  of  more 
importance  outside  the  sick-room.  As  for  the  nurses — 
there  must  be  two  " — and  he  considered  the  women  be- 
fore him. 

"  Ef  you  want  a  fus'-rate  borned  nuss,"  said  Dinah, 
who  knew  she  could  not  leave  her  important  post,  "  dar's 
dat  Lizzy  Jackson.  She  went  over  to  old  Madam 
Archer's,  an'  dey  couldn't  say  'nuff  'bout  her.  She's 
jes*  as  good  as  a  doctor  hisse'f  at  de  quarters." 

"Lizzy?  Yes,  I  have  seen  her.  She  is  an  excellent 
hand.  I'll  go  down  to  the  quarters  myself  and  see  her, 
if  you  have  no  objection,"  to  Miss  Sherburne. 

"Oh,  doctor,  is  it  anything  contagious?  She  may 
have  caught  some  disease  in  her  headlong  rushing 
about."  Miss  Sherburne's  countenance  was  rilled  with 
dismay. 

"  There  will  be  no  contagion,"  decisively.  "  It  is  not 
even  typhoid  fever.  But  we  shall  need  the  most  exact 
attendance.  I  wish  we  had  a  system  of  trained  nurses. 
There  must  be  two  regular  attendants,  and  one  to  re- 
lieve." 

"  Have  Lizzy,  then,  by  all  means." 

"I  will  be  in  again  this  afternoon.     Meanwhile  — 
And  sitting  down  he  took  out  his  medicine  case.     Then 
he  ordered  ice  for  her  head,  and  gave  some  minute  di- 
rections. 

"  You  will  find  her  alternating  between  stupor  and 
delirium.  Do  not  excite  her  in  any  manner,  she  has  no 
strength  to  waste.  Now  "—to  Gassy,  "  follow  directions 
implicitly." 

Then  he  went  over  to  the  quarters  and  engaged  Lizzy 


214  SHEBBURNE  HOUSE. 

for  the  night  nurse.  His  patients  were  far  apart,  and  he 
was  on  the  go  all  the  morning,  around  the  byroads.  As 
he  was  driving  through  Ardmore  he  encountered  Mr. 
Whiuingham  just  closing  his  office  door. 

"  Jump  in  and  allow  me  to  drive  you  home,"  said  he. 
"  I  have  a  matter  of  importance  to  discuss." 

Mr.  Whiuingham  acquiesced.  As  soon  as  he  was 
seated  the  doctor  made  his  startling  announcement. 

"  I  want  some  enlightenment.  The  child,  from  phys- 
ical indications,  ought  to  be  strong  enough  to  throw  off 
any  ordinary  attack.  This  is  serious,  and  I  find  her 
greatly  prostrated.  Indeed,  her  fight  through  will  de- 
pend on  how  good  a  constitution  she  has  back  of  her. 
And  no  child  of  that  age  ought  to  have  brain  fever ! 
What  about  these  New  York  people  ?  Daring  pro- 
cedure, wasn't  it?"  and  he  laughed  in  spite  of  his 
anxiety.  "  We  should  have  thought  it  plucky  for  a 
boy !  " 

Mr.  Whiuingham  was  very  much  astonished. 

"  Nothing  happened  there  unless  it  \v;is  excess  of 
emotion.  She  had  the  good  sense  to  know  she  must  re- 
turn, and  I  doubt  even  if  there  was  any  persuasion  used. 
The  Murrays  are  kindly,  large-hearted  people."  Then 
Mr.  Whiuingham  went  generously  over  the  past,  and 
the  love  they  had  given  an  unknown  and  apparently 
friendless  child. 

"  I  see,  I  see  !  "  and  the  doctor  nodded  energetically. 
"  So  that  made  the  change  a  severe  one  for  her — but 
there  are  nearly  always  children  at  Sherburne  House. 
What  have  they  been  doing  all  summer  with  her?  " 

"  She  has  been  kept  closely  at  her  studies — too 
closely,  I  think.  There  was  a  governess  until  a  week  or 
so  ago." 

"  You  don't  mean  that  child  came  fresh  from  a  school 
where  they  had  been  cramming  her  to  the  utmost, 
and  has  had  no  respite  all  this  long,  warm  summer? 


AV   THE    VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW.        215 

\Vell,  well !  I  don't  wonder  at  the  brain  fever.  Is  she 
a  slow  scholar? " 

••  I  think  her  unusually  intelligent.  She  is  shrewd, 
humorous — I  do  not  know  as  I  can  quite  make  you 
comprehend " — and  the  lines  of  the  speaker's  face 
settled  into  perplexity  ;  "but  Mrs.  Murray  is  like  a  big 
sister  to  the  children.  They  are  wonderfully  good  too, 
ready,  obliging,  gay-tempered,  and  are  not  much  gov- 
erned by  rule.  The  discipline  at  Sherburne  House  has 
been  rather  strict." 

The  petty  persecutions,  the  confinement,  extra  tasks 
and  deprivations  Mr.  Whittingham  was  too  honorable  to 
mention.  They  were  so  unlike  anything  he  had  associ- 
ated with  Miss  Sherburne  that  they  seemed  a  sort  of 
temporary  madness  in  his  mind,  roused  by  her  disap- 
pointment, and  having  the  newcomer  so  different  from 
her  own  family. 

"  One  can  dimly  guess  at  the  scene  after  you  left," 
and  the  doctor  laughed.  "  It  was  a  daring  step,  but  it 
seems  to  me  a  child  made  ordinarily  comfortable  would 
not  have  ventured  upon  it.  Of  course  it  was  an  im- 
mense disappointment  to  them  all.  I  never  approved  of 
Ned's  short-sighted  marriage,  but  I  have  a  feeling  that 
if  they  had  forgiven  the  young  couple  and  brought  them 
home  he  would  be  alive  to-day.  I  can  see  Miss  Sher- 
burne is  very  nervous,  ultra-conscientious  about  the 
child  dying  on  her  hands.  Theme  for  some  curious 
mental  processes,  Whittingham,"  and  the  doctor  gave  a 
short  laugh.  "  We  never  know  quite  what  we  are  capa- 
ble of  until  some  lightning  flash  reveals  the  villain  in  us." 

"  But  you  will  do  your  utmost,"  gasped  Mr.  Whitting- 
ham, fixing  his  startled  eyes  on  the  doctor. 

"  I  should  do  my  utmost  for  a  beggar,  although  I  felt 
certain  he  must  starve  six  months  hence.  In  an  emer- 
gency I  shall  send  for  Caswell ;  city  people  get  a  much 
Avider  range  of  practice." 


216  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

"  And  you  consider  her  critically  ill?  "  Mr.  Whitting- 
ham  said,  in  a  retrospective  way,  as  if  he  could  hardly 
believe  in  the  opinion  he  had  listened  to  a  moment  or 
two  ago.  "  The  whole  matter  has  been  wrongly  man- 
aged. There  has  been  too  much  friction,  too  much  an- 
tagonism. And  yet,  Carew,  you  know  Miss  Sherburne 
too  well  to  think  she  would  be  hard  or  sharp  deliberately. 
It  is  from  a  mistaken  idea.  And  Miss  Lyndell  is  a  little 
outside  the  ordinary." 

"And  kicks  over  the  traces?"  The  doctor  nodded, 
with  a  half-humorous  light  in  his  eyes. 

"  1  shall  insist  upon  her  being  sent  to  school  as  soon 
as  she  recovers,"  the  lawyer  said  nervously. 

"School!"  The  doctor  raised  his  brows.  "There 
won't  be  much  school  for  her  the  next  six  months. 
Still,  she  does  look  as  if  she  possessed  a  fine  physique. 
And  I'm  obliged  to  you,  Whittingham,  for  the  light 
you  have  let  in  upon  the  subject.  I  can  go  on  surer 
grounds." 

"And  you  will  try  your  utmost?"  The  buggy  had 
halted  before  the  lawyer's  residence. 

"Try?  Well,  though  we  all  have  a  secret  sympathy 
with  young  Beaumanoir,  none  of  us  I  take  it  want  con- 
structive murder  on  our  consciences.  Good-day." 

"Poor  child,"  the  doctor  mused  softly.  "One  can 
understand  how  thirsty  she  must  have  been  for  one 
draught  of  the  old  love,  to  go  all  that  distance  for  hugs 
and  kisses.  Miss  Sherburne  is  a  woman  of  fine  honor, 
too.  But  it  is  a  kind  of  playing  at  stepmother  business, 
and  that  doesn't  come  easy  to  many  women.  There 
must  be  some  divine  grace  in  it.  I  wish  I  could  take 
Neale  over  there  presently' to  set  things  a  little  straight. 
But  just  now  it  is  only  to  fight  with  that  tremendous  un- 
seen force  we  call  disease." 

When  he  went  back  about  mid-afternoon  he  picked 
up  Lizzy,  to  see  for  himself  what  effect  she  would  have 


AY   THE    VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW.        017 

on  the  sick  girl.  He  found  Dell  in  the  midst  of  a  raging 
paroxysm.  She  had  opened  her  eyes  suddenly  and  seen 
Miss  Sherburne  standing  by  her,  he  learned  on  question- 
ing Cassy.  "My  child,"  he  exclaimed  with  a  gentle 
kind  of  peremptoriness,  "my  child,  you  must  be  quieter. 
There,"  placing  his  arm  gently  around  her,  "it  is  all 
right  now.  See,  you  are  safe,  quite  safe." 

"  Oh,  papa  Murray  !  "  she  cried,  hiding  her  face  on 
his  broad  chest.  "Do  not  let  them  take  me  away  !  I 
don't  want  any  of  their  fortune.  I  just  want  you  and 
mamma  and  Con  and  Tessy.  Oh,  you  do  love  me !" 
in  a  tone  of  piercing  entreaty. 

"  Love  you?  Yes,  my  child."  And  he  gathered  her 
in  his  arms  with  a  tender  pity. 

"  I'm  so  tired,  so  tired,"  she  moaned. 

He  soothed  and  quieted  her.  Then  he  beckoned  Lizzy 
to  come  nearer.  Dell  looked  at  her  out  of  dull,  fever- 
glazed  eyes,  but  evinced  no  repugnance. 

"  You  will  watch  her  at  night,  having  some  one  within 
call,  and  now  I  must  give  you  directions.  Do  not  fail 
in  a  single  particular.  Remember,  a  life  depends  upon 
it!"  Then  he  explained  the  remedies  and  their  fre- 
quency, the  necessity  of  not  allowing  her  to  waste  any 
strength  in  wild  exertion  that  could  be  prevented. 

Lizzy  listened  intelligently  and  asked  a  few  questions. 
Dell  dozed  off,  muttering  now  and  then. 

"  Cut  her  hair  as  soon  as  possible,"  said  the  doctor. 
"Take  the  time  when  she  seems  in  the  deepest  stupor. 
Use  plenty  of  ice.  And  remember  all  directions." 

Miss  Sherburne  he  found  very  much  worn  and  de- 
pressed ;  and  his  kindliest  sympathies  were  aroused. 

"You  must  go  out  and  take  the  fresh  air,  and  have 
some  diversion  for  your  mind,  or  you  will  be  ill.  We 
must  all  hope  for  the  best." 

To  a  certain  extent  Miss  Sherburne  was  a  conscien- 
tious woman,  but  she  possessed  a  narrow,  justifying  con- 


218  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

science.  There  were  people  who  would  have  treated 
Lyndell  more  severely,  she  felt  certain.  After  all,  she 
had  not  said  half  the  things  she  intended.  Yet  the  accu- 
sation troubled  her.  She  had  no  real  proof,  she  felt 
within  her  soul.  Still,  she  had  read  guilt  so  clearly  in 
Dell's  face,  and  where  else  could  she  have  obtained  the 
money?  If  she  had  found  it  anywhere,  it  was  her  duty 
to  set  about  discovering  the  owner  at  once.  Certainly 
she  had  committed  a  grave  fault. 

Cassy  was  sent  to  bed  that  night.  Dinah  came  in  and 
laid  on  the  lounge,  and  Miss  Sherburne  went  to  one  of 
the  spare  rooms,  for  she  was  really  suffering  from  loss  of 
sleep.  Dell  was  very  restless,  but  Lizzy  managed  beauti- 
fully. She  crooned  to  her  in  a  low,  soft  voice,  hymns 
with  a  plaintive  strain  ;  she  talked  and  soothed. 

But  the  next  day  told  too  plainly  that  the  struggle 
would  be  an  unusually  severe  one.  The  fever  ran  very 
high,  the  intervals  of  stupor  grew  longer,  and  yet  it  was 
not  sleep,  but  a  sort  of  drowsy  unconsciousness.  She 
said  little  that  had  any  coherence,  though  she  seemed 
always  aware  of  Miss  Sherburne's  entrance,  and  would 
shriek  out  in  terror.  It  angered  her  that  Dell  should  ex- 
hibit such  a  violent  antipathy,  even  when  not  in  posses- 
sion of  her  normal  senses.  But  she  urged  the  doctor 
continually  to  use  his  utmost  efforts.  He  could  see  she 
was  in  the  grasp  of  a  terrible  dread  ;  indeed,  he  felt  that 
the  child's  death  would  be  a  severe  blow  to  her,  little  as 
she  really  liked  her. 

So  passed  a  week,  with  no  change  for  the  better. 
Cassy  and  Lizzy  were  excellent  nurses,  and  Dinah  was 
on  hand  to  fill  any  breach.  The  fever  ravages  were 
fearful.  Dell  grew  thin  by  the  hour.  Her  eyes  were 
sunken,  her  lashes  and  brows  seemed  as  if  stuck  in  wax 
rather  than  a  normal  growth.  Doctor  Carew's  heart 
sank  within  him  as  he  noted  many  unfavorable  evi- 
dences. 


IN  THE    VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW.        219 

Now  and  then  she  begged  piteously  for  Mamma 
Murray. 

"  Do  you  think  we  had  better  send  ?  "  Miss  Sherburce 
inquired  tremulously,  one  morning. 

••  She  would  not  recognize  any  one,  and  her  foster- 
mother's  grief  might  prove  a  dangerous  thing.  You  see, 
now  and  then  she  takes  me  for  papa  Murray,  as  she 
calls  him.  No,  it  is  not  worth  while  to  send  at  present." 

Doctor  Carew  had  mailed  an  account  of  the  case  to 
his  friend  Caswell  at  Baltimore,  who  approved  of  the 
treatment.  But  at  length  he  begged  him  to  come 
and  remain  one  night,  the  crucial  night,  it  seemed  to 
him. 

"  She  must  have  some  sleep,"  the  newcomer  said,  "  or 
she  cannot  hold  out  much  longer." 

"Anodynes  are  useless,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Then  we  must  proceed  to  extremities." 

All  night  the  two  men  watched,  noting  every  feeble 
respiration,  and  counting  the  moments  of  wide-eyed 
wakefulness.  Miss  Sherburne  would  not  leave  the  next 
room,  where  she  sat  in  a  tense  strain  of  anxiety.  The 
hours  wore  on.  The  shrilling  of  the  countless  insects  in 
the  thickets  grew  slow  and  slower,  then  died  out.  The 
air  was  moist  and  sweet.  There  was  no  moon,  but  the 
stars  seemed  to  hang  low  in  the  heavens  in  unwonted 
splendor. 

Dell  was  so  strangely  quiet  now  that  it  seemed  as  if 
death  had  begun  his  work.  Her  pulse  was  a  mere 
thread.  Almost  at  dawn  she  roused  suddenly. 

"Mamma  Murray,"  she  cried  weakly;  "Mamma 
Murray  !  " 

Doctor  Carew  motioned  to  Lizzy,  who  took  the  child 
in  her  arms. 

"I  am  so  tired,  so  tired,"  she  moaned,  "I  have 
walked  so  far  !  But  the  money  is  all  safe.  Papa  gave 
it  to  me.  Oh,  must  I  go  back?  " 


220  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

Then  it  seemed  as  if  she  was  gone.  Lizzy  uttered  a 
low,  despairing  cry. 

Miss  Sherburne  stood  like  a  ghost  in  the  doorway. 

"  Is  it — oh,  Heaven  help  me  to  bear  it!  "  And  she 
wrung  her  hands. 

"No,"  returned  Doctor  Caswell.  But  it  was  so  like 
death.  There  was  a  faint  flutter  in  her  throat  as  Lizzy 
laid  her  down  at  a  sign  from  the  doctor,  who  adminis- 
tered a  stimulant.  Another  flutter — a  languid  heart-beat, 
then  she  lay  motionless,  with  her  eyes  closed,  the  long 
bronze  lashes  glittering  on  her  cheek. 

Daybreak  looked  in  at  the  window.  The  soft  grey 
was  tinged  with  rose,  then  mingled  with  gold  and  hung 
in  quivering  sheets. 

"  Keep  up  her  strength  with  any  stimulant  that  will  do 
it  for  the  next  ten  or  twelve  hours.  The  fever  is  con- 
quered. If  she  can  sleep,  all  will  be  well.  But  it  has 
been  a  hard  fight." 

"  I  will  send  you  over  to  the  station,"  said  Doctor 
Carew.  "You  must  know  how  grateful  lam.  But  I 
had  better  remain  for  an  hour  or  two." 

"  Remain  by  all  means.  Do  not  let  her  drop  down  a 
moment."  Then  the  two  men  shook  hands. 

Doctor  Carew  watched  her  with  infinite  solicitude.  It 
seemed  at  moments  as  if  she  did  really  stop  breathing. 
How  wonderfully  she  had  changed  in  less  than  a  fort- 
night. No  one  could  complain  of  the  superabundant 
flesh  now.  Her  very  nose  had  sharpened.  Her  chin 
was  nearly  all  a  deep  dimple,  and  her  hands  were  waxen 
white  as  they  lay  helpless,  the  fire  and  strength  gone  out 
of  them.  She  drowsed  on,  now  and  then  opening  her 
eyes  wide  for  a  moment  or  two  and  seeming  to  listen  for 
something. 

"  Oh,"  Miss  Sherburne  said,  coming  to  the  door,  "  will 
she, live  ?  Doctor  Caswell  has  gone " 

"  We  can  hardly   call  it  a  hope.     She  has  come  now 


.LV  THE    VALLEY   OF  THE  SHADOW.        221 

to  the  crucial  test  of  real  strength.  But  the  fever  is 
over." 

There  was  an  expression  of  intense  relief  on  the  lady's 
face,  and  her  lips  quivered,  but  she  could  not  utter  her 
thanks. 

About  ten  the  doctor  took  his  leave.  Dell  lay  utterly 
quiet,  sleeping  a  little,  but  quite  indifferent  to  surround- 
ing objects. 

In  the  afternoon  when  he  came  he  found  her  in  the 
same  state.  Her  pulse  he  fancied  stronger. 

"  You  will  need  to  watch  her  with  the  utmost  care  to- 
night," he  said  to  Lizzy.  "  If  there  is  any  dropping  down, 
give  her  this  at  once.  Do  not  leave  her  for  a  moment. 
I  have  almost  made  a  doctor  of  you" — and  he  smiled. 
"  I  wish  I  could  always  be  supplemented  by  as  efficient 
a  nurse." 

But  that  night  there  seemed  a  better  feeling  every- 
where. Cassy  slept  on  the  lounge  in  Miss  Sherburne's 
room,  Dinah  being  quite  knocked  up  by  her  half  vigils. 
Two  or  three  times  Lizzy  was  fearful  Dell  had  gone,  but 
the  morning  found  a  decided  amendment  in  the  strength 
of  pulse. 

"  I  think  now  she  will  pull  through,"  said  the  doctor. 
"  Do  not  excite  her  in  any  way.  Answer  her  questions 
simply,  without  any  air  of  mystery  or  fear." 

It  was  almost  night  when  Dell  opened  her  eyes  lan- 
guidly and  fixed  them  on  Cassy 's  face. 

"I  feel  so  queer,"  she  said  presently.  "So  weak, 
and — what  has  happened,  Cassy?  I  was  going  to  New 
York — I  can't  seem  to  remember 

"You  have  been  ill.  But  you  are  going  to  get  well 
now,"  replied  Cassy,  with  a  smile. 

"Did  I  come  back?"  with  a  perplexed  expression. 
"Oh,  yes  ;  this  is  Sherburne  House  and  my  own  room. 
I  feel  as  if  I  had  been  in  a  dreadful  railroad  accident  and 
was  crushed  to  a  jelly.  And  I  am  so  tired  " — piteously. 


222  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

"  Lie  still,  then,  dear  !  "  soothingly. 

"  Some  one  was  here — "  trying  to  think  connectedly. 
•"  Was  it — oh,  it  wasn't  Mamma  Murray  ?  And  she  sang 
as  mamma  used  to  the  babies — an  Irish  croon,  she 
called  it,  but  it  was  so  sweet." 

"  Lizzy  has  been  here.  Lizzy  from  the  quarters,  nurs- 
ing you.  And  Dinah." 

"  It  must  have  been  Lizzy."  Then  Dell  fell  asleep 
again. 

After  that  day  she  had  only  to  get  well.  Yet  it  was 
odd  how  party  spirit  had  again  stirred  the  household 
and  the  quarters.  If  young  Missy,  who,  so  far,  had 
taken  no  hold  upon  any  one's  affections,  should  die, 
Mas'r  Leonard  would  sure  come  into  his  own.  The 
stories  of  Dell's  escapade  and  her  Northern  friends  had 
been  wildly  exaggerated,  until  the  child  came  to  be 
wrapped  around  with  a  sort  of  mysterious  influence — be- 
witched fairly.  There  was  not  the  rejoicing  that  would 
naturally  have  been  given  to  a  favorite,  yet  a  great  strain 
was  lifted.  • 

No  one  felt  this  so  intensely  as  Miss  Sherburne.  She 
gave  most  fervent  thanks,  and  they  were  honest,  sincere. 
Lyndell's  death  would  have  laid  a  heavy  burden  on  her 
•conscience.  She  could  not  resolve  to  her  own  satisfac- 
tion why  this  should  be  so,  it  was  one  of  those  unsolvable 
mysteries.  Surely  she  had  tried  to  do  her  duty  to  the 
uttermost,  confident  in  her  own  judgment.  That  she 
might  have  taken  the  orphan  girl  to  her  heart,  and 
Jearned  to  love  her  in  making  her  welcome,  did  not  seem 
any  conscientious  obligation.  She  had  begun  by  putting 
herself  in  bitter  opposition  ;  by  taking  up  a  heavy  bur- 
den unjustly  laid  upon  them  all  by  her  nephew's  wilful 
step.  It  was  to  be  borne  with  the  heroism  of  martyrdom. 
And  how  often  we  stretch  ourselves  on  the  cross  of 
prejudice,  and  suffer  from  spear  thrusts,  when  all  could 
have  been  avoided  by  one  clasp  of  tender  love,  of  the 


7AT   THE    VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW.        22$ 

divine  charity  that  does  not  make  a  bulwark  of  the 
"  suffering  long,"  but  is  simply  "  kind." 

She  stole  softly  into  the  room  the  next  morning  while 
Dell  was  asleep.  Yes,  there  had  been  a  great  change. 
She  would  not  have  known  the  child  elsewhere.  The 
roundness,  that  to  her  mind  savored  of  vulgarity,  was 
gone.  The  fine  clear  skin  was  like  marble.  She  noted 
now  the  lengthened,  almond-shaped  eyes  with  their  long^ 
curling  lashes  and  blue-veined  lids,  the  small  shell-like 
ear,  the  white  throat  into  which  the  chin  gradually  sloped. 
True,  the  mouth  was  wide,  but  she  remembered  that 
Dell's  teeth  were  fine  and  regular. 

The  child  stirred.  Was  it  the  curious  inward  con- 
sciousness of  the  glance  ?  She  opened  her  eyes. 

"Oh,  go  away!"  she  cried,  in  affright.  "  Go> 
away !  " 

Cassy  sprang  to  her  side.  Miss  Sherburne  walked 
stiffly  into  the  next  room,  and  unconsciously  paused  be- 
fore her  dressing  table,  where  her  eyes  fell  upon  her  own. 
pale,  disturbed  face. 

It  seemed  to  her  distorted  mental  vision  that  she  had 
held  out  an  olive-branch  of  concession,  which  had  been 
rudely  thrust  back.  That  Dell  was  hardly  restored  to 
her  proper  mental  state  she  did  not  take  into  account. 
She  felt  hurt,  angered,  and  swung  back  to  her  olden  bit- 
terness. 

"  There  is  a  race  antagonism,"  she  said  to  herself.  It 
had,  since  the  freeing  of  the  slaves,  become  a  sort  of 
shibboleth  to  excuse  lifelong  prejudices.  "  I  shall  do 
my  duty  by  her,  of  course,  but  it  would  be  folly  to  dream 
of  anything  nearer." 

She  had  really  hoped,  through  the  delirium,  that  the 
child  might  explain  unconsciously  how  she  came  to  find 
the  money.  But  beyond  a  few  references  to  it,  the  subject 
had  not  seemed  a  haunting  one.  No  person  was  any 
wiser.  And  though  her  faith  was  somewhat  shaken  in 


•J-J4  SHERBURKE  HOUSE. 

her  first  suspicion,  what  else  could  she  think  until  Dell 
saw  fit  to  confess  ? 

The  correspondence  between  herself  and  Mrs.  Beau- 
manoir  had  been  almost  daily.  The  latter  was  confident 
•of  the  child's  recovery.  Miss  Sherburne  felt  now  that 
she  had  unduly  alarmed  herself.  She  wrote  to  her  niece 
that  all  was  progressing  favorably,  and  that  it  might  per- 
haps be  as  well  to  take  up  the  matter  of  the  governess. 
The  Beaumanoir  family  would  remain  all  the  month  at 
Atlantic  City,  where  Mrs.  Lepage  expected  to  join  them 
on  her  return  from  Europe  and  accompany  them  home, 
when  she  would  make  a  visit  at  Sherburne  House,  pre- 
paratory to  settling  herself  in  a  home  of  her  own.  Miss 
Burtis  had  resumed  her  duties.  If  this  Mrs.  Fanshawe 
proved  to  be  the  proper  person,  it  would  be  as  well  to 
•engage  her.  __ 

Then  Miss  Sherburne  restored  the  household  to  its 
usual  orderly  routine.  Dinah  was  excused  from  further 
attendance,  and  indeed  she  was  quite  glad  to  get  back  to 
her  own  department  and  the  entertaining  gossip  of  the 
quarters.  That  Missy  had  come  through  such  an  awful 
illness  was  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  miracle  of  the 
Lord. 

"  Dar  ain't  no  look  now  for  pof  Mas'r  Leonard,"  and 
she  shook  her  head  lugubriously.  "  Not  dat  anybody  be 
wantin'  Miss  Dell  to  die,  but  eft  bin  de  Lord's  will, 
we'd  all  bowed  our  heads  like  bulrushes  in  de  storm. 
Seems  queer  dat  ar  little  gal  from  furrin  parts,  an'  no- 
body knowin"  who  her  mudder  was,  should  come  in  an' 
be  missus  here,  but  so  'tis,  an'  ol'  Miss,  she  take  it  very 
gran'  and  fine,  but  I  see  it  go  deep.  But  ef  ebber  enny 
one  done  der  dooty,  it  jest  was  ol'  Miss.  Dar  ain't  notin' 
on  her  conshuns.  She  hab  de  doctor  day  an'  night,  an' 
todder  big  doctor  frum  Bolt'more,  and  Lizzy  nebber 
takin'  her  eyes  offen  her  at  night,  ner  Cassy  by  day,  an' 
I  jus'  done  beat  out.  Rudder  cook  in  de  kitchen  fer  a 


AY   THE    VALLEY  OF   THE  SHADOW.         •".> 

month  solid  den  bein'  called  up  any  time  o'  night. 
Notin'  like  good  reg'lar  sleep  for  folks.  But  Miss  Dell, 
she  jus'  done  squeeze  tru,  and  dat  a  fact..  An'  she  look 
ies'  like  a  ghost.  Curis'  where  all  de  fat  go  to !  " 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

GATHERING  TANGLED  THREADS. 

DELL  lay  in  a  delicious  state  for  days,  sleeping 
most  of  the  time,  for  nature  now  made  large  de- 
mands to  recruit  her  wasted  forces.  She  smiled  a 
little  at  the  doctor,  she  knew  Cassy  and  Lizzie,  and  that 
was  quite  enough.  They  fed  her,  they  bathed  her  face 
and  hands  with  aromatic  water,  and  changed  her  pillows 
now  and  then,  and  she  was  supremely  content.  The 
disease  had  left  her  too  weak  to  think. 

But  one  morning  she  put  her  hand  to  her  head. 

"O  Cassy!"  she  cried  in  affright.  "Has  my  hair 
been  cut?  Who  did  it?" 

"  Dear  Miss  Dell,  the  doctor  ordered  it.  And  what 
•was  left  is  all  falling  out.  You  see  the  fever  was  so 
high  — 

"  I  never  was  ill  before.  Has  it  been  long?  I  can't 
remember.  I  came  back  from  the  Murraysand — I  stood 
there  in  Miss  Sherburne's  room — and  she  said — or  did  I 
•dream  it,  Cassy  ?" 

"  Don't  think  about  it,  dear,"  the  girl  said  sooth- 
ingly. 

"Cassy,"  she  began  again  presently,  "  I  must  think  of 
it.  It  comes  out — just  as  you  unravel  something.  Tell 
me,  tell  me  truly  ;  did  Miss  Sherburne  ever  lose  any 
money  ?  Was  any  ever  taken  from  her  drawer  ?  For 
I  am  sure  she  said ' ' 

Dell  began  to  flush  with  excitement. 

"I    do  not    think    she    ever   really  missed    any — oh. 
Miss  Dell,  don't  go  so  wild,  and  you  so  weak." 
226 


GATHERING    TANGLED   THREADS.  227 

"  Cassy,  do  you  think  I  would  take  Miss  Sherburne's 
money?  "  she  asked,  with  feverish  eagerness. 

"  No,  Miss  Dell,  I  really  do  not.  There,  dear — " 
in  a  pleading  voice,  with  her  soft  intonation. 

"  I  am  glad  some  one  believes  in  me,"  and  she  gave 
a  long,  dry  sob.  "And  I  did  not  find  the  money  in 
the  house  or  very  near  it.  I  don't  believe  it  is  Miss 
Sherburne's!  When  I  get  well  I  shall  hunt  for  the 
real  owner." 

"Oh,  Miss  Dell,  the  doctor  said  you  were  not  to  be 
excited."  Cassy 's  alarm  touched  her. 

"Was  I  delirious?"   Dell  asked  presently. 

"  Yes.  But  you  were  not  very  coherent.  And  you 
said  nothing  about  that.  So,  if  you  had  died,  you 
would  have  kept  your  secret." 

"  Did  they  think  I  was  going  to  die  ?  "  Dell  asked, 
startled. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Dell!"  implored  Cassy.  "But  you've 
come  through  now,  and  you  are  going  to  get  well — if 
you  will  be  a  little  careful.  Oh,  please  do!  " 

"  I  want  to  get  well,"  she  returned  slowly.  "  I  want 
to  live  to  be  a  woman.  I  have  thought  of  so  many 
things  to  do.  And  the  world  is  so  beautiful.  It  would 
be  hard  to  lie  in  the  cold,  dark  grave,"  and  she  shud- 
dered. 

"  You  must  not  say  another  word.  Drink  this  and  go 
to  sleep,"  entreated  Cassy. 

Dell  took  the  draught,  but  she  could  not  sleep.  By 
degrees  every  part  of  her  brain  was  roused.  She 
picked  up  dropped  ends— she  reunited  broken  threads, 
and  presently  thought  in  a  tolerably  direct  line.  Of 
course  she  came  to  that  terribly  unjust  accusation.  If 
Miss  Sherburne  had  missed  the  money,  she  would  have 
made  inquiries  before.  But  to  call  her  a  thief ! 

Dell's  training  had  been  frankly  simple,  wholesome, 
.and  unconventional.  They  were  expected  to  be  as  fair 


228  SHERBUBNE  HOUSE. 

and  honest  with  each  other  at  the  Murrays  as  with  their 
parents.  It  was  not  a  system  of  continual  looking  for 
faults  and  disbelief  in  all  higher  qualities.  Densie  be- 
lieved her  children  the  best  children  in  the  world,  and 
when  they  fell  below  her  standard,  her  sorrow  was  such 
a  poignant  thing  to  them  that  they  hastened  to  make 
amends.  And  looking  at  it  in  the  clearer  light,  a  great 
misgiving  throbbed  through  the  weakened  pulses.  She 
had  been  wrong  all  the  way  through. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  the  doctor  came  in. 

"Hallo!"  he  said,  studying  her  pulse  and  the  trou- 
bled light  in  her  eyes.  "  What  have  you  been  doing, 
Undine  ?" 

"What  did  Undine  do?"  she  asked,  with  a  faint 
smile. 

"Well,  she  was  happy  enough  until  she  found  her 
soul.  Then  there  was  no  end  of  trouble.  Who  has 
been  worrying  you  ?  You  are  to  have  only  a  body  for 
the  next  fortnight." 

"  No  one.  At  least — I  asked  Cassy  some  ques- 
tions." 

"  And  tumbled  yourself  up  and  down,  poor  Pilgrim  ! 
Do  you  know  that  doctors  have  a  sort  of  wicket  gate 
where  people  can  drop  their  burthens?  Why,  I've  a 
great  closet  full  of  other  people's  troubles." 

Dell  gave  another  faint  little  smile.  "  I  have  been 
very  ill,"  she  said  presently. 

"Yes.  We  made  quite  a  big  fight  for  you.  And 
though  you  are  a  little  battered  and  worn,  as  is  natural 
after  such  a  tussle,  you  are  coming  out  all  right,"  de- 
clared the  doctor  humorously. 

"  Yes — I  want  to  get  well.  I  have  never  been  ill 
before." 

"Oh,  you  do?  Well,  I  wasn't  quite  sure  a  few  days 
ago.  However,  that  settles  the  point.  Now  we  must 
have  no  more  slipping  back.  You  have  been  thinking 


GATHERING    TANGLED    THE E ADS.  2->9 

in  French  and  Latin,  and  up  and  down  the  scale,  and 
now  you  need  not  think  at  all.  Did  you  ever  see  a  bird 
dozing  on  a  limb  in  the  warm  afternoon  sunshine  ?  " 

"  1  don't  know  — "  returned  Dell  slowly. 

"  Well,  he  is  the  most  comfortable-looking  thing  alive. 
He  takes  a  good  grip  of  the  limb,  hunches  up  his 
shoulders,  drops  his  head  a  little,  half  shuts  his  eyes,  and 
the  wind  rocks  him  to  and  fro.  It  may  rain  the  leaves 
off  the  trees  next  week,  it  may  blow  and  snow  next 
winter,  his  children  may  clamor  for  food  next  summer, 
but  he  has  a  good  time  now.  He  isn't  going  to  make 
to-day  lap  over  into  the  future  years." 

Dell  laughed,  with  a  sense  of  amusement. 

"  And  I  wouldn't  lock  up  my  knapsack  until  I  really 
came  to  the  bridge.  You  might  want  to  take  some 
old  things  out,  and  put  some  new  ones  in." 

"What  bridge?  And  what  do  you  put  in  the  knap- 
sack?" 

"Do  you  know  anything  about  the  old  Egyptians? 
Well,  they  had  some  very  good  ideas.  When  a  man 
died  he  had  to  walk  over  an  extremely  narrow  bridge. 
Now,  you  see,  if  he  wasn't  well  balanced  it  was  rather 
critical.  Then  his  soul  had  to  be  weighed  in  one  scale 
and  his  good  deeds  in  another,  and  if  his  good  deeds 
went  up  to  the  beam  he  had  to  come  back  and  start 
down  at  the  foot  of  the  line — in  a  pig,  maybe." 

"Why,  that's  transmigration,"  said  Dell,  with  un- 
wonted interest. 

"Yes.  Well,  there  is  some  of  it  still  in  the  world. 
We  cross  the  bridge  here— bridges  of  different  kinds,  and 
God  lets  us  begin  over  again— just  where  we  made  the 
last  mistake.  And  you  may  be  sure  there  is  some  work 
for  us  to  do.  Pretty  soon  you  may  look  up  yours,  but 
you  can  have  a  few  weeks'  rest." 

"Oh,  I  wish  you  could  stay  and  talk  "—and  Dell's 
eyes  brightened.  A  faint  glow  tinged  her  pallid  face. 


230  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

He  shook  his  head.  "  A  doctor's  time  is  worth  a  good 
deal.  It  would  bankrupt  you.  But  when  you  get  stronger 
you  might  go  out  driving  with  me.  The  time  spent  in 
going  from  place  to  place  is  not  so  profitable  ;  I  could 
afford  you  some  of  that.  And  now  you  are  to  be  a  good 
girl  and  try  to  get  well.  We  are  to  press  forward,  you 
know." 

Dell  stretched  out  her  thin  white  hand.  "  I  like  you 
so  much,"  she  said  frankly. 

"  We  will  call  this  the  beginning  of  good  times.  Now 
you  must  sleep  and  eat,  and  walk  across  the  room  and 
not  worry  about  next  year.  There  is  the  bird,  you 
know." 

"Yes,"  answered  Dell  cheerfully. 

And  surely  there  was  no  reason  for  not  improving. 
Such  soups  and  dainties  as  Dinah  made,  such  care  as 
Cassy  bestowed  upon  her !  Miss  Sherburne  exercised 
sufficient  Christian  charity  to  come  in  and  wish  her  good- 
morning  and  good-night,  but  there  was  an  intensified,  if 
unspoken  bitterness  between  them. 

She  grew  stronger,  she  sat  up  in  the  great  easy-chair, 
was  pushed  over  to  the  window  and  watched  for  the 
doctor,  who  was  always  cheery  and  amusing.  Still  the 
old  wish  would  haunt  her — if  she  could  only  go  away  ! 
One  day  she  picked  up  the  hand-glass. 

"  O  Cassy,"  she  cried  in  dismay,  "  do  I  look  like  that  ? 
How  horribly  thin  I  am  !  And  my  eyes  are  so  big  and 
so  hollow  underneath.  And  no  hair  to  speak  of!  I 
wasn't  pretty  before,  but  I  am  a  horrid  fright." 

"  Everybody  looks  so  after  a  severe  illness.  Once 
Miss  Millicent  was  ill  a  long  while  and  she  looked  worse 
than  you,  she  was  so  dark  and  sallow." 

"  But  she's  beautiful  now,"  returned  Dell,  with  a  sort 
of  coveting  longing  in  her  voice.  "  I  don't  suppose  I 
can  ever  be  pretty.  You  ought  to  see  Tessy  Murray. 
She's  just  like  a  bright  wild  rose.  And  mamma  was 


GATHERING    TANGLED   THREADS.  231 

beautiful,  but  at  the  last,  when  she  was  so  thin  and  white, 
she  did  look  a  good  deal  as  I  do  now." 

Dell  was  wiping  away  some  tears  when  a  well-known 
step  sounded  on  the  stairs. 

"  Hi  !  "  ejaculated  Doctor  Carew.  "What's  all  this 
rain  shower  about?  " 

"I  look  so  horrid!"  Dell  answered,  trying  to  smile 
through  the  mist.  "Oh,  will  my  hair  ever  get  beyond  a 
stubble  ?  and  my  eyes  are  like  wells  or  caverns,  and  I  am 
shaky  and  miserable!  " 

"  Hear  the  sage  of  Craigenputtoch  :  '  When  a  man  is 
miserable,  what  does  it  most  of  all  behove  him  to  do  ? 
He  has  to  know  that  being  miserable  he  has  been  un- 
wise.' Now  for  the  unwisdom.  Did  it  arise  from  look- 
ing out  on  the  sunshine?" 

"No-o,"  admitted  Dell. 

"Well,  take  a  good  look.  There's  a  fine  bit  of  sky  up 
there  between  the  trees.  And  look  at  the  elm  and  the 
hemlock  nodding  across  the  blue  background.  The  sun- 
shine is  put  in  as  a  harmonizer  between  the  green  and 
blue.  And  over  yonder  there  is  a  long  line  of  it  on  the 
grass,  and  I  dare  say  the  little  green  blades  cuddle  up  to 
it  lovingly." 

"  But  do  you  suppose  I  shall  look  so  woebegone  a  great 
while?"  she  inquired  anxiously. 

"  That  depends.  You  may,  if  like  the  old  woman  you 
fret  to 

Skin  and  bone  and  bone  and  skin, 

And  leave  no  place  for  the  fat  to  creep  in. 

And  are  you  not  a  little  ungrateful  ?  " 

"Ungrateful?"  in  surprise. 

"  I  had  counted  on  making  a  show  patient  of  you. 
I  thought  people  would  soon  be  saying— why,  there's 
Miss  Sherburne,  who  was  at  death's  door  only  a  little 
while  ago,  and  now  she  is  round  and  rosy  as  a  winter 


;_>:;:>  SHEBBUENE  HOUSE. 

pippin.  What  an  excellent  physician  Doctor  Carew  must 
be!" 

There  was  such  a  twinkle  of  fun  in  his  eyes  that  she 
laughed.  Then  she  said  remorsefully  : 

"  I  wasn't  thinking  about  the  credit  I  owed  you,  when 
you  have  been  so  kind.  I  must  try." 

"Tears  are  not  a  fattening  diet.  And  worry  makes  a 
crease  in  your  forehead.  Fretting  is  apt  to  spoil  one's 
voice  as  well  as  one's  temper.  It's  the  sunshine  that 
warms  us  all  up  and  turns  everything  to  gold." 

"Oh,"  she  said  delightedly,  "you  are  like  papa 
Murray.  He  wouldn't  let  us  be  cross  or  have  the 
dumps.  And  he  was  so  merry." 

"  I  suppose  it  was  flattering  to  be  taken  for  him  ;  an 
interesting  mistake  you  fell  into  at  first.  And  I  have  a 
great  respect  for  Mamma  Murray,  who  was  able  to  fill 
the  heart  and  soul  of  a  motherless,  little  girl  with  so  much 
love." 

Dell  was  studying  the  doctor.  "  Oh,  you  are  a  little 
like  him,"  she  said  delightedly.  "  He  is  not  quite  so 
stout.  And  he  has  lovely  blue  eyes  that  laugh,  and  can 
look  so  gravely  sweet,  and  make  you  feel  so  sorry  when 
you  have  been  naughty.  And  I  can  never  be  Dell  Mur- 
ray any  more.  I  feel  changed.  I  am  another  girl, 
Lyndell  Sherburne.  And  all  my  life  is  different,"  she 
said,  with  regretful  pathos. 

"  Well,  Miss  Sherburne,  if  you  moisten  your  bread 
with  tears  you  will  find  it  a  poor  staff.  And  I  shall  feel 
tempted  to  cross  you  off  my  books." 

"  Oh,  doctor,  please  don't,"  she  pleaded  beseechingly. 

He  was  holding  her  hand,  when  there  was  a  soft  rustle 
of  a  woman's  gown  and  step  in  the  adjoining  room. 
Some  indescribable  sense  of  alarm  or  aversion  sped 
through  her  pulses,  and  she  seemed  to  cling  more  closely 
to  the  strong  hand  she  held. 

"Ah,"  thought  the  doctor,  "all  is  not  clear  sailing." 


GATHERING   TANGLED    THREADS.  233 

"  You  see  she  is  improving,"  said  Miss  Sherburne,  in 
her  well-bred,  rather  formal  tone.  "Do  you  not  think 
she  might  be  taken  out  soon  for  a  little  drive?  The 
weather  is  so  exceptionally  fine." 

"  She  hasn't  the  strength  just  yet.  And  now  she  must 
go  back  to  bed.  Plenty  of  sleep,  plenty  to  eat,  and 
nothing  to  think  about  until  we  get  her  sound  in  body 
again.  There,  my  child,  good-morning  to  you.  Study 
the  sunshine." 

Miss  Sherburne  foll^ved  the  doctor  downstairs. 

"Of  course,"  she  said,  "there  can  be  no  doubt  now 
about  Lyndell's  recovery." 

"Not  unless  something  new  occurs,"  returned  the 
doctor  dryly. 

"  And  there  can  be  no  thought  of  contagion  ?  " 

"  Hardly — with  brain  fever." 

"The  Lepages  are  coming  to  stay  for  awhile.  They 
have  always  spent  part  of  the  autumn  here.  There  are 
two  large  girls  and  the  baby,  but  they  will  have  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  house.  Still,  I  should  want  to  be  quite 
certain  of  no  danger  to  them." 

"  There  cannot  be  the  slightest,  in  the  nature  of  things. 
When  do  they  propose  to  come?" 

"This  has  always  been  a  home  to  them,"  said  Miss 
Sherburne  insistently.  "  My  brother  was  very  fond  of 
his  grandchildren.  Of  course  there  need  be  no  disturb- 
ance for  Lyndell.  She  will  be  kept  quite  apart." 

"  A  little  companionship  of  her  own  age  and  kind  will 
not  prove  any  detriment  to  her,"  said  the  doctor  rather 
testily.  "In  a  few  days  she  may  be  able  to  be  taken 
down  on  the  porch  in  the  sunshine." 

"The  Beaumanoirs  will  shut  up  their  house  at  Atlantic 
City  and  return  home  next  week.  The  Lepages  came  in 
from  Europe  on  Saturday.  Indeed,  I  have  not  seen  my 
niece  for  eight  months,  and  I  think,  as  a  family,  we 
Sherburnes  have  a  strong  regard  for  each  other." 


234  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

"And  a  change  will  be  an  excellent  thing  for  you," 
returned  the  doctor  cheerfully.  He  noted  how  much 
thinner  she  had  grown,  and  the  careworn  lines  settling 
in  her  face.  "  Have  them,  by  all  means." 

Yet,  as  he  drove  away,  he  could  not  help  thinking  of 
the  little  girl  so  unceremoniously  set  aside,  whose  rights 
were  scarcely  considered  ;  who  was  looked  upon  in  tl:c 
light  of  an  alien  and  not  made  altogether  welcome.  He 
leaned  much  more  toward  Mr.  Whittingham's  estimate 
as  time  went  on.  He  was  broad%enough  to  see  that  it 
was  hard  for  both  sides,  but  Lyndell  could  not  help  be- 
coming their  thorn  in  the  flesh.  To  punish  the  child  for 
it  was  cruelly  unjust. 

Mrs.  Lepage  had  been  as  incredulous  and  as  deeply 
prejudiced  as  Miss  Sherburne.  She  had  gone  abroad 
quite  convinced  that  she  should  be  able  to  detect  or  un- 
earth some  fraud.  But  she  had  had  every  clue  traced 
only  to  prove  its  truth,  and  establish  the  pure,  retiring, 
and  courageous  character  of  her  brother's  wife.  Then 
there  was  a  hope  that  the  child  might  have  met  with 
some  untoward  fate  ;  indeed,  it  seemed  hardly  possible 
that  they  could  have  been  in  America  four  years,  and 
not  presented  their  claim.  And  when  the  facts  were 
really  established,  Mrs.  Lepage  took  it  more  bitterly 
than  Mrs.  Beaumanoir. 

She  was  met  by  her  sister  in  the  city,  who  came  up  to 
do  some  shopping,  and  to  look  after  Mrs.  Fanshawe. 
Mrs.  Beaumanoir  secretly  hoped  that  she  would  find 
her  objectionable.  She  had  an  obstinate  faith  that  Dell 
would  recover,  and  she  decided  upon  the  school,  though 
from  different  motives  from  Mr.  Whittingham.  She  had 
lost  the  slight  sympathy  she  had  experienced  for  the 
child.  Dell's  wild  escapade  and  the  question  of  the 
money  shocked  her  immeasurably.  Like  Miss  Sher- 
burne, she  could  see  no  other  solution  to  the  mystery. 

The  danger  for  Dell  was  practically  over  when   she 


GATHERING    TANGLED   THREADS.  235 

went  up  to  the  city.  But  it  had  hardly  been  appreciated 
by  any  of  the  family  except  Miss  Sherburne.  And  ti>;it 
lady  was  secretly  shocked  at  the  indifference  of  Mi-. 
Beaumanoir,  when  she  was  really  suffering  from  certain 
conscientious  misgivings  and  nervous  fears. 

When  the  sisters  met,  the  subject  was  all  engrossing. 
What  the  child  was  really  like,  what  present  rights  sl.c 
had  in  the  place  so  long  considered  a  family  home,  and 
what  could  be  done  with  her. 

"  Dear  Aunt  Aurelia,"  said  Mrs.  Lepage.  "She  is  such 
a  good,  conscientious  woman,  and  she  has  all  the  old 
family  pride  intensified  by  the  almost  isolated  life  she  has 
led.  The  idea  of  worrying  about  the  recovery  of  that 
miserable  child,  making  it  a  morbid  point  of  conscience 
lest  any  one  should  accuse  her  of  not  doing  her  whole 
duty  !  Because  her  death  would  be  our  gain,  she  is  too 
nervously  sensitive  to  contemplate  it  with  any  composure. 
But  such  children  live  through  everything.  And  no 
doubt  her  delirium  was  half  temper." 

"  Doctor  Carew  is  not  much  of  an  alarmist.  And  he 
had  a  friend  down  one  night.  She  was  very  ill,  no 
doubt  ;  but  she  is  a  great,  rugged  child  with  a  positively 
oppressive  personality.  I  think  she  will  wear  out  Aunt 
Aurelia.  I  insist  that  she  shall  be  sent  to  school. 
Auntie  has  some  idea  that  she  can  best  humanize  and 
civilize  her,  but  it  will  prove  a  futile  undertaking.  And 
now  she  is  so  anxious  for  me  to  learn  what  kind  of  a  per- 
son this  governess,  a  Mrs.  Fanshawe,  is.  She  must  have 
come  over  in  the  steamer  with  you.  She  had  charge  of 
the  Eustis  girls  !  " 

Mrs.  Lepage  uttered  an  exclamation  of  astonish- 
ment. 

"Why,  how  did  you  come  to  hear  of  her?  Irene 
Eustis  is  to  be  married  to  a  very  wealthy  gentleman  liv- 
ing up  the  Hudson,  at  Hyde  Park,  I  think,  and  Emily 
is  to  enter  Vassar.  This  Mrs.  Fanshawe  is  a  charming 


236  SHEEBURNE  HOUSE. 

woman,  well-born,  well-connected,  whose  family  lost  all 
during  the  war,  and  .later  her  husband  died.  She  is 
thoroughly  well  educated,  and  has  a  good  fund  of  com- 
mon sense.  If  we  were  settled,  I  should  like  to  have  her 
myself." 

"  The  word  came  through  the  Whittinghams." 

"  I  do  not  suppose  this  child's  sickness  can  make  any 
difference  in  our  staying  at  Sherburne?"  Mrs.  Lepage 
said  inquiringly.  "You  see  we  shall  not  be  able  to  get 
into  our  Washington  house  before  the  1st  of  January, 
and  I  had  planned  to  spend  the  intervening  time  at  Sher- 
burne. We  certainly  have  the  right  to  visit  Aunt  Au- 
relia.  It  is  her  management  and  wisdom  that  have 
brought  up  the  estate  from  the  devastation  and  depres- 
sion of  the  war.  And  papa  was  feeble  so  long.  I  al- 
ways said  auntie  had  the  business  head  of  the  family, 
and  she  has  her  rights  in  the  place.  This  newcomer 
cannot  turn  her  out  ?  " 

"  Everything  is  to  go  on  just  the  same  until  Miss  Lyn- 
dell  comes  of  age.  And  your  visit  will  be  a  perfect  god- 
send to  aunt.  She  has  worried  over  this  matter  until 
her  nerves  are  worn  threadbare,  and  some  one  must 
help  her  to  take  a  common  sense  view  of  the  case.  We 
are  not  going  to  crowd  out  Edward's  child,  and  no  more 
than  our  duty  is  required  of  us.  You  and  the  girls  can 
spend  a  week  or  two  at  Beaumanoir  until  the  house  is 
put  in  safe  and  proper  order.  Brain  fever  is  not  an  in- 
fectious disease,"  and  Mrs.  Beaumanoir  laughed. 

"  The  wonder  is  that  she  had  brains  enough  to  be  af- 
fected !  "  returned  Mrs.  Lepage  rather  sarcastically.  "  It 
just  occurred  to  me  that  if  you  could  persuade  this  Mrs. 
Fanshawe  to  accept,  it  would  be  an  excellent  thing  for 
the  girls  all  the  autumn,  and  relieve  me  of  present  anx- 
iety concerning  them.  I  do  not  care  to  give  them  more 
than  one  finishing  year  at  some  stylish  school,  since  they 
are  not  to  be  physicians  or  professors.  I  am  rather  old- 


GATHERING    TANGLED   THREADS.  -:-:J7 

fashioned  in  my  notions,  and  still  believe  in  marriage. 
Yes,  let  us  engage  this  Mrs.  Fanshawe,  if  we  can." 

Mrs.  Beaumanoir  considered  seriously.  While  she 
had  explained  the  escapade,  she  had  said  nothing  about 
the  missing  money.  Certainly  they  should  be  put  or» 
their  guard.  If  the  child  had  these  fearful,  despicable 
habits,  others  should  not  run  the  risk  of  being  wronged. 
Dishonesty,  pilfering,  was  a  greater  sin  in  her  estimation 
than  the  sudden  act  of  an  ungovernable  temper.  She 
had  been  thoroughly  shocked  by  Aunt  Sherburne's  ac- 
cusation, and  only  the  intervention  of  Dell's  illness  had 
prevented  her  from  flying  at  once  to  Sherburne  and  tak- 
ing a  hand  in  the  attempted  reformation  of  this  misguided 
girl.  It  had  hung  over  her  with  such  a  horrible  night- 
mare influence  that  she  would  have  been  relieved  to  hear 
of  Dell's  death.  Had  Miss  Sherburne  explained  that, 
while  her  suspicions  remained  the  same,  she  had  been 
unable  to  verify  them,  Mrs.  Beaumanoir  could  better 
have  understood  her  anxiety  for  the  child's  recovery. 
But  she  had  written  no  word,  not  even  given  the  vaguest 
hint,  although  she  had  begged  her  niece  to  say  nothing 
to  the  children. 

Mrs.  Beaumanoir  confided  the  wretched  story  to  her 
sister,  who  was  not  less  horrified.  Yet  what  solution  ap- 
peared more  natural.  She  had  wheedled  some  money 
out  of  Mr.  Whittingham,  and  the  remainder  must  be 
secured  by  any  means  !  She  might  even  have  persuaded 
herself  that  it  was  in  one  sense  her  own  money. 

"What  miserable  training  the  child  must  have  had  ! 
What  you  tell  me,  Laura,  convinces  me  that  the  best 
thing  I  can  do  will  be  to  spend  some  time  at  Sher- 
burne. I  am  not  afraid  of  my  own  girls.  Indeed,  the 
Sherburnes  have  always  been  scrupulously  honest, 
think  any  one  of  us  would  sooner  cut  off  our  right  hand 
than  take  what  did  not  belong  to  us.  And  my  children 
have  been  trained  to  abhor  and  despise  dishonesty.  I 


238  SHEBBUBNE  HOUSE. 

can  see  now  why  Aunt  Sherburne  is  not  willing  to  have 
her  sent  to  school.  She  would  disgrace  us  in  no  time. 
O  Laura  !  why  should  this  terrible  misfortune  be  sent 
upon  us  ?  How  could  Edward  have  been  so  blind  ?  " 

It  was  settled  then  that  they  would  look  up  Mrs.  Fan- 
shawe  and  make  an  arrangement  with  her,  and  that  Mrs. 
Lepage,  having  opportunities  to  study  Lyndell,  could 
reach  a  more  decisive  and  perhaps  truer  conclusion  than 
Aunt  Sherburne  was  able  to.  Upon  that  would  depend  in 
a  large  degree  the  young  girl's  future  training. 

Meanwhile  Sherburne  House  was  being  made  ready 
for  the  coming  guests.  These  two  rooms  in  the  L  could 
be  kept  so  entirely  separate,  and  Edith's  favorite  part  had 
always  been  the  front  of  the  main  house,  her  girlhood's 
apartment.  Nancy  swept  and  shook  and  dusted,  brought 
out  curtains  and  rugs  from  the  great  cedar  press,  beat  up 
and  aired  pillows  and  blankets,  took  the  Chinese  vases 
out  of  the  wide  fireplaces,  for  soon  the  evenings  would 
begin  to  grow  cool.  There  was  a  pleasant  excitement 
about  it  all  that  broke  the  tense  strain  under  which  Miss 
Sherburne  had  been  living.  She  felt  the  need  of  the  com- 
panionship of  her  equals.  And  what  course  to  pursue 
with  Dell  was  a  sort  of  overhanging  terror,  night  and  day. 
The  child  shrank  from  her,  looked  away  when  she  en- 
tered the  room,  answered  her  questions  in  a  cold,  con- 
strained tone.  These  were  suggestions  of  a  mind  ill  at 
ease,  perhaps  guilt.  She  did  not  dare  accuse  her  again  ; 
she  was  afraid  of  discussing  the  point  in  her  weak  state. 
She  longed  to  set  Cassy  at  work  in  unraveling  the  mys- 
tery, but  she  was  too  innately  proud  to  descend  to  this 
kind  of  familiar  equality  with  a  servant.  She  had  asked 
Cassy  if  Dell  had  thrown  any  light  on  the  subject  during 
her  ravings,  and  she  felt  confident  that  Cassy  would  in- 
form her  of  any  half-confession  the  child  might  make. 
The  next  steps  could  not  be  taken  at  present. 

Cassy  informed   Dell  of  the  preparations.     She  had 


GATHERING    TANGLED   THREADS.  -J39 

heard  about  her  cousins  before  :  Harry  and  Gitibrd, 
growing  into  young  manhood  ;  Ethel  and  Alice,  twins  of 
;i  little  past  fourteen,  and  the  baby,  as  Florence  was  still 
called,  a  lovely  child  of  nearly  five.  The  boys  had  been 
spending  the  summer  with  their  cousins  at  Atlantic  City, 
the  girls  had  been  abroad  with  their  parents.  Now  the 
boys  were  in  school. 

Dell  dreaded  the  arrival  of  guests,  especially  girls  of  her 
own  age.  It  seemed  to  her,  as  Cassy  said,  that  all  the 
Sherburnes  were  handsome.  Hitherto  it  had  been  a 
matter  of  no  moment  whether  she  was  dowered  with  good 
looks  or  not,  but  suddenly  she  had  become  unduly  sensi- 
tive. She  studied  her  thin  face  surreptitiously,  feeling 
more  and  more  disgusted  with  the  Staring,  sunken  eyes, 
the  pallid  lips,  the  forlorn  head  with  its  fuzzy,  scanty  crop. 
No,  never  before  had  she  looked  like  this !  The  doctor 
might  recommend  bright  thoughts  and  plenty  of  sunshine, 
but  oh,  of  what  avail  was  the  sunshine  when  one's  heart 
was  so  heavy,  and  what  could  satisfy  her  sad,  aching, 
hungering  soul. 

Still,  she  improved.  Dinah  carried  her  down  on  the 
porch  in  the  sunshine  one  day,  and  she  lay  there  noting 
the  early  autumn  changes,  and  drinking  in  the  fragrant 
air,  being  gently  wooed  to  a  happier  frame  of  mind. 

Just  then  the  Beaumanoir  carriage  drove  up.  The 
family  had  returned  and  Miss  Sherburne  was  sent  lor, 
as  Mrs.  Lepage  was  impatient  to  see  her.  It  was  a 
tiresome,  uneventful  day  ;  for  no  one  came,  not  even  the 
doctor,  who  no  longer  made  regular  daily  calls. 

For  the  next  three  days  it  rained— not  continuously, 
but  much  of  the  time,  a  depressing  drizzle.  Dell  heard 
all  of  the  news  there  was  to  tell.  Mrs.  Fanshawe,  the 
new  governess,  had  come  and  was  to  instruct  the  twins 
from  now  until  Christmas,  when  they  would  take  posses- 
sion of  the  new  house  Mr.  Lepage  was  fitting  up  at 
Washington. 


i>40  SHERBURNE  HOUSE, 

"And  I  do  hope  you  will  soon  be  able  to  resume  your 
lessons."  said  Miss  Sherburne. 

It  seemed  to  Dell  that  this  was  the  crudest  touch  of  a 
cruel  fate.  She  crept  into  bed  a  most  miserable  girl,  and 
comforted  herself  with  bitter  weeping. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

A   NEW  ATMOSPHERE. 

"  NEALE,"  Doctor  Carew  said  to  his  sister  that  same 
dismal  evening,  as  they  sat  together  in  the  old  home- 
room as  it  had  been  called  for  half  a  century,  "  Neale, 
I  have  a  bit  of  work  for  you  to  take  in  hand." 

She  was  a  fair,  delicate  woman  of  fifty  or  thereabout, 
with  a  soft  pink  in  her  still  rounded  cheeks,  beautiful  and 
gracious  curves  to  the  lips,  a  rather  long  neck,  around 
which  lay  a  cloud  of  soft  illusion  tied  on  the  breast  with 
a  pale  lavender  ribbon,  and  the  ends  crossing  fichu-wise. 
Her  hair,  rather  thin,  light,  and  now  a  little  threaded 
with  silver,  was  a  mass  of  lovely  waves,  Nature's  gift. 
She  wore  a  tiny  square  of  lace,  the  point  drooging  to  the 
forehead.  Her  figure  had  always  been  slim  and  it  still 
preserved  an  exquisite  pliancy  and  roundness.  She  sat 
in  her  high-backed  chair,  her  slender  fingers  busy  with 
some  knitting,  odd  little  shells  for  a  counterpane.  She 
glanced  up  with  a  soft,  inquiring  smile,  and  said,  "Well  ? ' ' 

"  I  want  that  little  Sherburne  girl  over  here  for  a  week 
or  so — perhaps  longer.  I  want  you  to  comfort  her,  and 
cuddle  her  up,  and  get  some  human  warmth  in  her 
soul." 

"  The  child  that  ran  away  ?  " 

".Yes.     She  is  not  doing  as  well  as  she  should." 

"  What  is  the  trouble?  "  Cornelia  Carew  glanced  up 
with  a  sympathetic  expression,  that,  her  brother  always 
said,  would  coax  the  secrets  out  of  a  stone. 

"  There  are  a  good  many  troubles.  First,  no  one  re- 
alizes how  weak  and  shaky  her  nerves  are  ;  I  do  not  be- 

241 


242  SHERBUBNK  HOUSE. 

lieve  they  can  understand  how  ill  she  has  been.  She  is 
utterly  friendless  and  alone.  Then  the  Lepages  are 
coming  to-morrow,  two  bright,  pretty  girls — the  twins— 
with  their  heads  full  of  Europe  and  everything.  Miss 
Lyndell  is  certainly  shorn  of  what  little  good  looks  she 
may  have  possessed.  Yet  she  has  beautiful  velvety 
brown  eyes  and  long  bronze  lashes,  and  a  broad,  fine 
forehead.  I  think  her  face  is  noble.  It  may  be  grand 
sometime,  but  it  will  never  be  called  pretty.  When  she 
is  not  so  deadly  thin  she  must  have  some  dimples,  al- 
though hers  is  more  of  a  cleft  chin.  The  contrast  with 
health  and  joyousness  will  be  hard  to  bear." 

"  I  heard  she  was  extremely  plain.  And  beauty  is 
something  of  a  Sherburne  heritage." 

"  If  I  had  my  way  every  woman  should  be  handsome," 
cried  the  doctor  vehemently.  "Then  the  plain  ones 
could  not  be  made  miserable  by  their  more  fortunate 
sisters !  At  first  she  seemed  stout  and  suggestive  of 
coarseness,  now  she  is  thin  and  suggestive  of  misery. 
She  dreads  these  visitors — there  is  much  that  is  inhar- 
monious between  herself  and  her  aunt,  and  she  is  not 
getting  well.  Her  future  health  depends  upon  her  entire 
recovery  now  ;  her  usefulness  as  well,  for  if  she  drops 
into  a  nervous,  easily  depressed  state,  she  will  be  a  terror 
to  those  around  her,  and  a  burthen  to  herself.  It  is  a 
case  of  unfriendly  atmosphere.  Change  is  positively 
necessary." 

"But  could  you  manage  it  without  giving  offence? 
Of  course  the  child's  being  in  the  world  was  a  great 
disappointment  to  them,  and  if  she  is  out  of  har- 
mony  " 

"  I  think  no  one  has  tried  to  draw  her  within  har- 
mony," said  the  doctor  rather  gruffly.  "  But  I  will  do 
Miss  Sherburne  the  justice  to  say  that  she  absolutely 
fought  for  the  child's  life  in  all  outside  influences.  Still 
the  child  seemed  in  mortal,  deadly  terror  of  her,  and  de- 


A   NEW  ATMOSPHERE.  243 

clared  in  her  delirium  that  she  hated  her.  She  firmly 
believes  that  the  whole  family  grudge  her  her  very 
life." 

"  O  Randolph,  how  terrible  !  I  think  Miss  Sherburne 
is  trying  her  utmost  to  be  fair." 

"The  trying  is  so  palpable.  The  unfairness  also. 
Can't  a  child  tell  when  those  around  are  unfriendly?  I 
am  sure  a  dog  can.  But  the  Murrays  loved  her  passion- 
ately. Think  of  their  keeping  her  four  years  just  like 
one  of  their  own.  Why,  there  must  be  something  attract- 
ive about  her.  She  has  a  strong  will  and  a  great  deal 
of  repression  ;  then  she  is  wonderfully  frank  on  the  other 
side,  a  sort  of  tangled  up  compound,  that  the  years  only 
can  bring  into  harmonious  lines." 

"  But  how  will  you  be  able  to  arrange  it  ?  If  she  were 
poor  or  friendless  it  would  be  easy  enough." 

"  I  shall  attack  the  fortress  and  take  the  measure 
thereof.  Not  being  on  the  witness  stand,  you  see  I  am 
not  compelled  to  confess  the  whole  truth  " — and  the  hu- 
morous twinkle  came  into  his  eye — "  so  I  shall  save  my 
own  skin.  I  have  been  wanting  to  take  her  out  to  drive, 
but  the  days  have  been  so  wretched.  And  to-day  she 
had  dropped  down  to  nothing,  indulged  in  unlimited 
tears,  and  I  had  not  the  heart  to  scold  her.  But  a 
change  she  must  have.  And  we  have  taken  patients  in 
before — to  be  comforted  and  medicated." 

"  Generally  the  friendless." 

"  Why,  there  was  Mrs.  Tryon  !  " 

Miss  Carew  laughed. 

"  You  know  she  would  have  taken  us  to  Europe,  en- 
dowed us  with  fortunes— anything.  I  never  saw  a  more 
grateful  soul." 

"  Randolph,  we  have  always  been  friends  with  the 
Sherburnes.  It  will  not  do  to  offend  them." 

"  Well,  do  you  consent  ?  "  rather  testily. 

"Why,  of  course.     I    must  confess   I  should  like  to 


244  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

know  something  about  the  child.  I  have  not  even  seen 
her  yet." 

"They  have  considered  her  a  sort  of  barbarian,"  he 
said  dryly. 

Then  the  doctor  took  up  his  magazine  again.  Miss 
Neale  resumed  her  knitting,  and  thought  of  the  child  to 
whom  the  summer  had  proved  so  eventful. 

The  home-room  was  a  curious  conglomerate  of  com- 
fort. It  was  large,  with  a  western  and  southern  ex- 
posure, cheerful  with  windows,  bright  in  cold  weather 
with  a  fire  of  logs  in  the  immense  chimney.  In  the 
centre  was  the  doctor's  big  desk-like  table,  that  had  in- 
numerable drawers  and  was  always  littered  with  books 
and  papers.  There  was  an  old-fashioned  bookcase,  a 
sort  of  cabinet  escritoire  filled  with  what  we  now  term 
bric-a-brac,  a  roomy  sofa,  a  piano,  and  Miss  Neale' s 
corner.  Here  was  her  workstand,  the  table  for  her 
lamp ;  a  bracket  that  always  held  a  bowl  of  flowers 
winter  and  summer. 

Connected  with  this  by  a  short  passage  was  the  reg- 
ular office.  On  the  other  side  a  parlor,  dining-room,  and 
kitchens  innumerable  stretching  out  gardenward.  The 
house  stood  a  little  on  the  outskirts  of  Ardmore,  and  had 
a  thicket  of  woods,  a  rather  ruinous  old  orchard  still 
yielding  some  choice  fruit,  and  a  kitchen  garden.  Here 
Miss  Cornelia  had  lived  all  her  life  ;  here  the  doctor  had 
brought  his  sweet  young  wife,  an  orphan  then  and  in  del- 
icate health,  and  after  the  birth  of  her  son  she  had  faded 
away  like  a  snowdrop.  Then  the  two  had  gone  on  their 
apparently  uneventful  way,  but  their  names  had  become 
household  words,  as  they  had  become  the  friends,  of 
many  a  household. 

She  was  wondering  a  little  about  this  child,  who  had 
been  the  object  of  many  a  gossip  and  much  warm  argu- 
ment. Now  and  then  she  had  been  seen  at  church,  but 
nowhere  else.  The  opinion  had  gone  abroad  that  she 


A    NEW  ATMOSPHERE.  245 

was  not  presentable,  that  there  was  something  about  her 
worse  than  disagreeable  to  the  Sherburnes.  Callers  had 
not  been  able  to  inspect  her.  Visitors  knew  of  her  being 
in  her  own  room  in  disgrace,  and  she,  rather  than  the 
family,  had  suffered  by  the  vague  mystery. 

Miss  Carevv  had  studiously  held  herself  aloof  from  the 
gossip,  but,  like  many  others,  her  sympathy  was  given 
to  the  Sherburnes.  The  doctor  had  exceeded  his  usual 
reticence  during  the  earlier  part  of  Dell's  illness,  when 
there  was  much  anxiety  as  to  its  final  termination.  Lat- 
terly he  had  been  rather  confidential  to  his  sister,  and 
had  uttered  more  than  one  denunciation  on  the  manner 
in  which  the  child's  physical  well-being  had  been  en- 
dangered. But  she  was  startled  at  this  proposal. 

The  next  day  the  doctor  was  at  Sherburne  House  early 
in  the  morning  and  laid  his  plans  before  its  mistress. 
She  was  more  than  surprised. 

"What  she  wants,"  he  said,  in  a  determined  sort  of 
fashion,  "is  entire  change.  She  is  not  as  well  as  she 
was  three  days  ago." 

"  But  you  agreed  that  she  needed  companionship. 
You  thought  the  visit  of  my  nieces  would  tend  to  rouse 
her.  And  I  am  anxious  for  her  to  get  back  to  her 
studies.  We  have  a  most  excellent  governess  en- 
gaged — 

"Studies!"  interrupted  the  doctor  fiercely.  "She 
must  not  do  a  bit  of  studying  for  three  months  to  come, 
unless  you  want  to  ruin  her  health." 

Miss  Sherburne  stood  amazed. 

"  Doctor,"  she  cried,  "  you  said  she  had  a  strong  con- 
stitution. And  she  was  too  robust.  She  had  a  boy's 
vigor  and  strength." 

"You  have  changed  all  that,  my  dear  madam.  Re- 
member, you  have  given  her  no  vacation  the  whole  sum- 
mer. She  had  been  used  to  the  largest  liberty,  to  a  kind 
of  athletic  school  training,  and  you  have  kept  her  too 


246  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

much  confined.  Naturally,  girls  of  her  age  d«  not  run 
to  brain  fevers." 

"  But  she  was  so  behind  in  everything,  so  untrained, 
so "  Miss  Sherburne  paused  in  vexation. 

"You  have  no  right  to  train  her  health  away.  She 
is  not  much  beside  a  bundle  of  nerves  now,  and  if  you 
want  a  nervous,  irritable,  headachy  girl  on  your  hands 
for  the  next  two  or  three  years,  to  be  sent  away  finally 
to  some  cure-all  establishment,  then  you  may  urge  her 
to  get  well  and  take  up  her  studies.  Why,  she  wants 
to  be  out  of  doors  all  next  month  ;  she  ought  not  so 
much  as  look  at  a  book  !  And  just  now  she  is  naturally 
sensitive  about  her  personal  appearance.  When  you 
place  her  in  contrast  with  your  blooming  nieces,  it  will 
depress  her  beyond  measure.  She  will  shrink  into  her- 
self, grow  silent,  indifferent,  morose.  No,  you  had  bet- 
ter let  me  take  her  for  a  fortnight  or  so.  I  shall  have 
her  out  with  me  daily.  Neale  will  cuddle  her  up  like  a 
hen  with  one  chick.  And  you  can  enjoy  your  visitors 
without  an  anxious  moment." 

"It  certainly  is  an  extraordinary  proposal,  doctor! 
Really,  you  seem  to  doubt  our  doing  her  justice  here. 
She  has  the  best  of  care " 

"  Still  it  is  not  the  right  kind.  The  change  of  air  and 
scene  will  do  more  for  her  than  anything  else.  You  can- 
not medicine  the  low,  nervous  depression,  the  shrinking 
from  everybody,  the  over-sensitive  brain  that  has  already 
endured  a  terrible  tension.  And  you  certainly  will  enjoy 
yourselves  better  without  her." 

"  Still  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  shirking  my  duties," 
she  returned  haughtily. 

"  Then  take  up  this  one  squarely.  If  the  child  re- 
covers thoroughly,  comes  back  to  her  normal  health, 
there  will  be  no  trouble  later  on.  Work  her  a  little  too 
hard  now,  try  her  shattered  nerves  too  heavily,  and  to- 
ward spring  you  will  be  journeying  around  in  search  of 


A    NEW  ATMOSPHERE.  247 

recuperation.  And  what  is  it  but  a  neighborly  visit? 
You  can  see  her  every  day." 

"  Doctor,  there  are  certain — yes,  you  force  me  to  say 
it — grave  faults  in  the  child " 

"  I'm  used  to  faults  and  tempers.  I'll  risk  hers.  She 
needs  a  doctor's  constant  oversight  for  the  next  fortnight, 
to  be  kept  cheerful,  to  be  tranquillized,  to  have  no  sort 
of  urging  or  strain.  I  think  you  will  be  sorry  if  you  re- 
fuse this.  And  you  know  my  sister  will  take  the  best 
care  of  her.  I'll  promise  you  there  shall  be  no  running 
away." 

Miss  Sherburne  was  dazed.  She  seemed  like  one 
waking  from  a  dream.  To  allow  Dell  to  go  out  of  her 
hands  with  her  secret  unconfessed 

"  I  must  think  this  over  and  perhaps  take  some  ad- 
vice   "  She  hesitated,  and  cast  about  vainly  for  a 

weightier  argument. 

"  No  one  can  advise  you  better  than  I  on  this  sub- 
ject," he  said,  with  grave  kindliness. 

She  felt  that  this  was  true. 

"  Neale  is  coming  over  to  call  on  Mrs.  Lepage — I 
think  I  will  bring  her  to-morrow.  And  you  will  have  de- 
cided by  that  time." 

Miss  Sherburne  could  ill  brook  interference  in  any  of 
her  cherished  schemes.  She  had  a  fancy  that  no  one 
save  herself  could  govern  Lyndell.  Yet  she  was  forced 
to  admit  she  had  not  succeeded  very  well  so  far.  But 
she  meant  to  persevere. 

She  went  up  to  the  invalid's  room  presently. 

••  Lyndell,"  she  said,  unaware  how  her  voice  sharp- 
ened, "  Lyndell,  the  doctor  seems  rather  disappointed 
about  you.  Are  you  making  any  effort  to  get  well? 
And— your  cousins—"  she  must  say  it,  though  she 
grudged  the  child  the  relationship— "  will  be  here  to- 
day. I  thought  they  would  help  to  amuse  you.  And 
you  could  drive  out  with  them." 


248  SHERBUBNE  HOUSE. 

"They  will  not  like  me,"  returned  Dell,  with  curious 
apathy.  "  And  they  are  well  and  happy." 

"  You  must  get  welt  As  for  happiness,  that  is  in  your 
own  hands.  If  you  are  going  to  be  perverse  and  cave 
for  no  one " 

There  was  a  little  sob.  Dell  was  using  her  utmost  ef- 
forts not  to  cry.  But  now  that  the  passion  found 
vent,  she  wept  hysterically.  She  was  so  weak  and 
miserable. 

"  Lyndell,"  said  Miss  Sherburne  more  gently,  "  what 
can  I  do  for  you  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  nothing!  only  to  leave  me  alone  " — and  she 
turned  her  face  to  the  wall. 

Miss  Sherburne  obeyed  her,  angered  by  the  repulse. 

The  load  of  trunks  and  boxes  came  over  just  before 
noon,  and  both  families  about  mid-afternoon.  It  was  a 
lovely  day,  with  a  suggestion  of  Indian  summer  in  the 
hazy,  red  atmosphere.  Lyndell  listened  to  the  gay 
greetings,  the  joyous  tones,  the  trooping  up  and  down, 
and  her  heart  swelled  with  bitterness. 

"  Miss  Dell,"  Cassy  said,  entering  the  room,  "  do  you 
not  want  to  sit  up  and  let  me  arrange  your  gown  pret- 
tily ?  They  would  all  like  to  call  on  you.  And  the 
Beaumanoir  children  are  anxious  to  see  you." 

"I  can't  see  any  of  them — I  positively  can't !"  she 
declared,  trembling  with  terror.  "  I  know  I  am  a  fright ! 
And  they  will  come  in  to  criticise  me — no,  I  will  not  en- 
dure it.  You  may  tell  them  all!  If  they  come  I  will 
cover  my  face  with  the  sheet.  I  will  not  speak  a  word." 

"Oh,  Miss  Dell " 

"  No,  no,  no  !  "  cried  Dell  passionately. 

"  I  think  Miss  Dell  must  be  worse,"  Cassy  announced, 
returning  from  her  fruitless  errand.  "  She  does  not  feel 
able  to  sit  up  or  to  see  any  one." 

"Why,  I  thought  she  was  getting  well  so  rapidly-!" 
said  Mrs.  Beaumanoir  in  surprise. 


A    NEW  ATMOSPHERE.  249 

"I  don't  know  what  to  make  of  the  child.  She  is 
obstinacy  personified  !  "  replied  Miss  Sherburne. 

So  the  young  people  had  a  merry  time  with  but  little 
thought  of  the  poor  girl  upstairs,  whose  rights  or  feel- 
ings were  so  slightly  considered.  Their  pleasure  came 
first. 

Dell  somehow  slept  very  uneasily  that  night,  and 
awoke  unrefreshed.  Her  breakfast  went  down  almost 
untasted,  and  there  was  a  dull  ache  everywhere. 

But  Miss  Sherburne  was  not  to  be  outgeneraled  by  a 
peevish  whim.  She  brought  Mrs.  Lepage  and  the  two 
girls  into  the  room,  as  soon  as  Dell  was  dressed  and 
sitting  up  by  the  window. 

"This  is  your  Aunt  Lepage,  Lyndell,"  she  said  im- 
pressively. "And  these  are  your  cousins  Ethel  and 
Alice.  I  did  hope  you  would  soon  be  well  enough  to 
take  some  pleasure  in  their  society." 

Lyndell  flushed  and  her  lips  quivered,  but  she  uttered 
no  word.  The  twins  glanced  at  each  other  with  a  sort 
of  polite  astonishment. 

"You  have  been  very  ill,  we  heard,"  began  Mrs. 
Lepage,  with  a  touch  of  gracious  stateliness. 

She  was  tall,  and  somehow  reminded  Dell  strongly  of 
Miss  Sherburne.  Her  silken  morning  gown  was  a  dull 
crimson,  with  a  profusion  of  cream  lace  and  ribbons  in 
both  colors.  An  elegant  diamond  ring  sparkled  on  her 
shapely  hand,  and  there  was  about  her  a  something  im- 
posing and  grand  that  quite  filled  Dell  with  dismay. 
The  girls  she  barely  glanced  at.  They  were  fair,  with 
light  hair  beautifully  crimped,  and  soft  pink  cheeks ; 
lovely,  slim  hands,  and  altogether,  Dell  was  extin- 
guished. 

"You  really  must  try  to  improve,"  she  continued. 
"It  is  quite  discouraging  to  your  good  aunt,  who  has 
been  so  anxious  about  you." 

Dell's   eyes    filled   with   tears.     She   made  strenuous 


250  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

efforts  to  keep  them  from  overflowing.  These  critical 
glances  seemed  to  pierce  at  every  vulnerable  point,  and, 
indeed,  it  appeared  to  her  sensitive,  shrinking  nerves  as 
if  every  point  was  utterly  defenceless.  Oh,  would  they 
ever  go  !  She  must  scream  or  throw  herself  out  of  the 
\\indow  in  her  desperate  agony.  They  were  talking 
among  themselves.  The  sound  rang  in  her  ears,  the 
words  were  a  jumble  of  confusion. 

"What  a  horrid  fright!"  declared  Mrs.  Lepage, 
when  they  were  downstairs  again.  "And  certainly 
stupid !  Why,  she  does  not  answer  a  question  with 
common  politeness.  She  looks  wretchedly,  not  at  all  as 
if  she  were  recovering." 

Miss  Sherburne  was  troubled  at  this  remark. 

"  Doctor  Carew  is  not  so  sanguine  as  he  was.  He 
wishes  to  take  her  for  a  fortnight  or  so  and  see  what  he 
can  do." 

"Oh,  let  her  go,  aunt,  by  all  means.  Such  a  woe- 
begone face  is  enough  to  give  well  people  the  horrors. 
And  I  am  afraid  you  never  will  reap  much  gratitude  for 
the  devotion  you  have  given  her.  Laura  and  I  both 
think  her  a  most  unpromising  specimen.  She  has  not  a 
good  face,  say  what  you  will.  And  it  is  an  awful  shame 
that  she  is  ever  to  be  mistress  here.  But  there — life  is 
uncertain.  We  cannot  tell  what  will  happen  in  seven 
years." 

"  You  think  you  would  let  the  doctor  take  her?  " 

Miss  Sherburne  asked  this  with  a  feverish  eagerness. 

"  Why,  certainly.  She  is  fit  for  nothing,  and  only  a 
sort  of  marplot  here.  We  shall  all  feel  more  at  ease 
without  her.  Sickness  is  so  depressing." 

It  was  almost  noon  when  the  doctor  drove  over,  lie 
had  a  lady  in  the  buggy — some  one  to  call  on  Miss 
Sherburne,  Dell  supposed ;  as  they  lingered  so  long. 
She  was  all  in  a  quiver  when  he  came  up,  so  full  of 
suppressed  excitement  that  she  leaned  her  forehead 


A   NEW  ATMOSPHERE.  x>r,j 

against    his    breast    and    cried    as  if   her   heart   would 
break. 

"My  child,"  he  said,  "my  poor  little  kitten,  what 
has  gone  amiss  with  you?  I  want  you  to  hearten  up,  to 
listen  to  some  news — but  may  be  you  won't  like  it,  and  I 
have  fought  lions,  almost,  to  bring  it  about.  Come, 
cheer  up  a  bit.  Do  you  really  wish  to  hear  it  ?  " 

Dell  raised  her  thin  white  face,  still  wet  with  tears. 

"  I  am  going  to  carry  you  off  to  my  den.  I  have  per- 
suaded the  powers  that  be,  how  absolutely  necessary  it 
is,  if  they  want  you  to  recover.  And  I  have  brought 
over  my  sister,  so  you  will  not  be  afraid  to  venture." 

"To  go — away?"  gasped  Dell.  "To  go  anywhere 
out  of  Sherburne  House  !  It  kills  me.  It  is  like  a  great 
weight  coming  down  on  me,  and  I  feel  crushed.  Oh, 
will  you  really  take  me?  " 

She  was  sobbing  now  for  pure  joy.  He  chafed  the 
cold  hands  that  trembled  so  in  his  warm,  strong  touch, 
he  laid  his  rough  cheek  against  her  throbbing  brow,  and 
it  seemed  to  still  the  tumult  in  her  brain. 

"  Oh  when  will  you  take  me  ?  "  she  cried  eagerly. 

"To-morrow,  perhaps,  or  next  day.  And  then  you 
will  be  cared  for  and  cuddled  and  made  much  of.  for 
my  sister  is  an  angel.  And  I  shall  do  the  scolding  when 
I  am  roused,  for  I  have  the  temper  of  a  fiend." 

Dell  gave  a  weak,  amused  little  laugh. 

"What  would  rouse  you?"  she  asked.  "  I  ought  to 
be  warned  before  I  am  decoyed  into  your  den." 

"Oh,  you  are  not  so  near  dead  as  I  thought  !  "  und 
the  doctor's  eyes  twinkled.  "Your  not  getting  well 
might,  when  I  have  taken  so  much  pains  with  you. 
Your  running  away  would,  of  a  surety.  I  am  under 
bonds  for  your  safe  keeping." 

"  I  shall  never  run  away  again,"  and  her  voice  came 
through  tears.  "  I  shouldn't  have  the  courage.  And  I 
promised  papa  Murray." 


2.V2  SHEBBUENE  HOUSE. 

"  Well,  if  he  can  trust  to  your  promise  I  think  it  will 
be  safe  for  me.  And  now,  have  you  chirked  up  enough 
to  see  Miss  Neale  ?  For  I  must  go,  but  she  is  to  stay  to 
dinner." 

"  And  I  look  so  dreadfully "  But  the  doctor  had 

gone  to  summon  her. 

Dell  always  remembered  the  soft,  harmonious  woman, 
svlio  seemed  almost  to  float  into  the  room,  clad  in  tender 
lavender  grey,  with  a  cloud  of  fine  illusion  around  her 
neck.  She  was  tall  and  rather  thin,  but  oh,  how  beauti- 
ful she  looked  to  Dell,  as  the  eyes  of  shady  violet  blue 
studied  hers,  and  the  sympathetic  hand  took  the  one  so 
limp  and  thin.  The  voice  had  a  suggestiveness  of  music. 

"This  is  Miss  Neale,"  announced  the  doctor.  "  And 
you  are  to  be  the  best  of  friends." 

"Oh!  "  and  Dell  gave  a  long,  long  sigh.  It  seemed 
to  her  that  she  was  glad  she  had  come  to  Sherburne 
House  just  for  the  chance  of  meeting  Miss  Neale. 

"  You  poor  little  girl  !  You  see  the  doctor  wants  you 
under  his  eyes  for  awhile,  so  he  can  keep  you  up  to  the 
mark.  You  think  you  will  not  get  homesick  ?  " 

"I  couldn't  be  homesick  —  with  you,"  Dell  said 
frankly,  smiling  up  in  the  sweet  face. 

The  doctor  had  to  rush  away.  Miss  Neale  sat  beside 
Dell  and  stroked  her  hand,  talking  in  the  low,  soft  tone 
that  was  so  tranquillizing.  Dell's  heart  throbbed  with  a 
glad  bound. 

The  dinner  bell  rang,  and  Miss  Neale  kissed  her 
softly.  She  remained  in  a  blissful  dream.  Was  it  true  ? 
What  magic  had  been  used  ?  Were  they  really  alarmed 
about  her  ? 

When  Cassy  came  up  with  her  dinner  she  was 
strangely  startled.  At  first  it  seemed  as  if  Dell  was  dead, 
so  white  and  wan  did  she  look.  Her  head  had  dropped 
a  little,  but  she  was  only  asleep.  Delight  had  proved 
an  excellent  sedative. 


A    ATM'  ATMOSPHERE.  2f>;{ 

As  Cassy  stood  there,  a  fervent  pity  crept  into  her 
heart  for  the  child.  Had  she  been  fairly  treated  ? 
Surely  she  had  not  thrust  herself  among  the  Sherburnes  ! 
She  had  not  wanted  to  come.  Perhaps  it  was  this  utter 
lack  of  appreciation  of  her  position  that  had  been  sucli 
a  thorn  in  Miss  Sherburne's  side.  Her  continued  regard 
for  the  Murrays — for  though  she  might  be  forbidden  to 
mention  them  in  health,  all  the  passionate  fondness  of 
her  nature  had  overswept  the  bounds  in  her  delirium. 
She  had  begged  for  kisses  with  such  piteous  entreaty. 
"Take  me  in  your  arms,  Mamma  Murray,  I  am  so 
tired!"  had  been  her  beseeching  cry.  And  Lizzy's 
tenderness  had  soothed  her  in  her  wildest  moments. 

Surely  Miss  Sherburne  loved  her  Beaumanoir  nieces 
and  nephews,  and  the  twins  were  great  favorites  with  her. 
Florence  sat  upon  her  lap,  and  put  her  dimpled  hands 
up  to  her  auntie's  chin  caressingly.  It  was  not  because 
she  was  incapable  of  love,  or  that  the  springs  of  affec- 
tion had  been  dried  up  by  the  hand  of  passing  years-. 
Had  Dell  unwittingly  hit  the  truth  when  she  said  they  all 
hated  her  ?  Perhaps  she  would  have  been  gentler,  had 
the  others  been  really  kind. 

She  roused  then,  and  half  smiled  up  in  Cassy's  sym- 
pathetic face,  almost  completing  a  victory. 

"Can't  you  eat  a  little  dinner,  Miss  Dell?"  she 
asked  persuasively. 

"  No,  Cassy.  Or  I  might  eat  just  one  peach.  I  am 
sleepy  and  want  to  lie  down.  Who  was  here!  O 
Cassy,  the  doctor's  sister!  What  a  lovely  face  she 
has!  And  her  voice  takes  you  to  heaven's  very  gate. 
I  wish— if  I  had  only  been  related  to  them!  After  all. 
I  don't  believe  I  care  very  much  for  Sherburne  House." 

She  had  risen  while  she  was  saying  this,  and  Cassy 
steadied  her  steps  as  she  walked  over  to  the  bed.  She 
was  tired  and  sleepy,  she  had  passed  such  a  restless  night. 

Certainly  Dell's  fortune  had  been  taken  at  the  flood. 


•254  BHEBBUBNE  HOUSE. 

Miss  Sherburne  had  gone  around  in  her  little  circle  un- 
til, on  every  side,  the  wall  seemed  higher  and  more  un- 
yielding. She  had  morbidly  magnified  her  office,  and 
her  rigid  faith  in  her  own  opinions  had  been  gaining 
ground  under  isolating  influences. 

But  these  more  modern  women,  while  they  might  be 
less  conscientious,  had  a  broader  outlook.  They  pro- 
tested bitterly,  and  then  accepted  the  inevitable.  There 
was  no  real  reason  after  all  why  their  lives  should  be 
made  a  burthen  for  a  wayward,  obstinate,  ill-bred  girl. 
Do  the  best  they  could  with  her,  the  easiest  for  them- 
selves, and  their  duty  was  done.  So  it  happened  that 
Mrs.  Lepage  hailed  the  doctor's  offer  with  gratification. 

"Let  her  go,  of  course,  Aunt  Aurelia.  Miss  Neale  is 
in  her  element  when  she  has  a  broken-legged  chicken. 
•or  a  sick  little  darky  to  befriend.  And  she  does  need 
change  of  air.  You  know  we  brought  the  twins  down 
here  as  soon  as  they  could  be  moved  after  they  had  the 
scarlet  fever.  A  peevish  invalid  destroys  the  comfort  of 
a  whole  house,  and  there  will  be  guests  coming  and  go- 
ing, and  we  want  our  time  for  enjoyment.  Send  her,  by 
.all  means." 

Mrs.  Beaumanoir  took  the  same  view.  "You  have 
really  worn  yourself  out  over  the  child,"  she  said. 
"You  need  rest  and  diversion  quite  as  much  as  she 
does.  Aunt  Aurelia,  you  are  ultra-conscientious.  The 
child  cannot  exceed  her  own  capabilities,  do  what  you 
•will.  It  is  too  late  to  make  her  over  into  a  Sherburne. 
It  we  could  have  had  her  four  years  ago  !  But  there  is 
no  use  of  bemoaning  fate." 

"  She  will  be  ruined  at  the  doctor's.  She  needs  the 
tightest  rein.  When  she  comes  back,  no  one  will  be 
able  to  do  anything  with  her." 

"Then  pack  her  off  to  a  good,  strict  school.  If  she 
is  stolid  and  unamiable  you  can  never  transform  her  into 
an  angel.  And  now  that  Edith  is  here,  you  will  have  no 


A   NEW  ATMOSPHERE.  >&& 

end  of  guests.  You  would  not  enjoy  yourself  a  moment. 
Besides,  I  do  not  think  Doctor  Carew  over-indulgent 
to  unreasonable,  hysterical  people.  And  on  the  score  of 
looks,  she  ought  to  be  hidden  away  somewhere.  She  is  a 
perfect  fright !  " 

"  If  I  thought  it  really  for  the  best " 

"Think  so  at  once,  then,"  and  Mrs.  Beaumanoir 
smiled.  "My  dear  Aunt  Aurelia,  you  are  morbidly 
conscientious.  You  must  come  back  to  a  more  reason- 
able frame  of  mind.  We  will  all  help  you.  And  I  am 
extremely  anxious  to  know  how  you  came  to  suspect  she 
took  the  money  from  you." 

Miss  Sherburne  colored  distressfully,  and  admitted 
with  some  hesitation  that  there  was  no  other  way  for  her 
to  get  it.  She  had  even  inquired  by  letter  if  Miss  Hen- 
dricks  had  given  her  any,  and  had  been  answered  with 
a  very  positive  denial. 

Yet  Mrs.  Beaumanoir  was  surprised  at  her  keeping  to 
her  first  suspicion  on  such  slight  grounds.  From  her 
early  girlhood  Miss  Aurelia's  business  methods  had  been 
the  admiration  of  the  family.  When  she  took  charge  of 
the  household  she  accounted  for  every  penny  and  made 
others  do  the  same.  Yet  she  was  not  niggardly.  The 
open-handed  hospitality  of  the  house  was  a  proverb 
throughout  the  county.  But  she  exacted  a  rigorous 
honesty  of  the  house  servants.  They  were  warned 
when  they  came  in,  and  the  first  dereliction  banned 
them  forever.  They  knew  appeal  would  be  useless. 
Still  she  was  extremely  careful  of  putting  temptation  in 
their  way.  While  doors  stood  generously  open,  valu- 
ables were  kept  under  lock  and  key.  It  was  impossible 
that  a  woman  of  Miss  Sherburne's  methodical  habits 
could  have  lost  any  considerable  sum  without  knowing 
it  ;  neither  could  it  have  been  abstracted,  and  not 
missed.  Mrs.  Beaumanoir  truly  regretted  that  Miss 
Sherburne  had  made  the  hasty  accusation. 


•J5(;  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

"  Still  I  should  find  some  means  of  compelling  her  to 
tell  where  she  really  did  get  it,"  said  Mrs.  Beaumanoir 
decisively.  "When  she  is  stronger  the  matter  must  be 
properly  sifted.  And  she  must  learn  that  your  authority 
is  to  be  respected.  Of  course  she  has  had  no  real  train- 
ing, hitherto." 

So  the  way  was  paved  for  the  doctor  and  Miss  Carevv. 
The  ladies  had  always  been  friends,  though  of  late  years 
their  tastes  and  beliefs  had  somewhat  diverged.  Long 
before  the  war  freed  the  slaves,  Miss  Carew's  interest  in 
them  had  been  so  outspoken,  although  not  aggressive, 
that  many  of  her  friends  classed  her  with  the  Northern 
radicals.  The  Sherburnes  had  always  believed  in  an  in- 
ferior race.  As  Royalists,  two  hundred  years  agone, 
they  would  have  believed  in  the  divine  right  of  kings. 

Miss  Sherburne  felt  herself  overruled  by  circumstances, 
and  her  nerves  were  hardly  in  the  state  for  obstinate  re- 
sistance. She  acquiesced,  but  there  was  an  internal  re- 
volt. She  felt  as  if  she  was  losing  supreme  authority  over 
this  child,  that,  somehow,  belonged  to  her,  inasmuch  as 
she  was  Edward  Sherburne's  child.  If  she  could  have 
opened  Dell's  veins  and  let  out  all  her  mother's  blood  ! 

Miss  Carew  came  up  afterward  to  say  good-bye,  as  she 
was  going  over  to  the  Beaumanoirs  for  a  call.  Dell  was 
asleep.  How  worn  the  face  looked  ;  yet  it  held  in  its 
thin  lines  and  sharpened  contour  a  promise  of  a  large, 
generous  soul,  if  not  so  much  absolute  beauty.  She 
pressed  her  lips  to  the  forehead.  Dell  smiled,  but  did  not 
wake. 

"  The  doctor  will  come  over  for  her  to-morrow,"  Miss 
Carew  said  with  her  good-bye. 

"  The  child  hasn't  a  thing  to  wear  but  the  dressing- 
gown  Cassy  made  her  last  week.  It  seems  to  me  she  is 
inches  taller,  and  so  thin  that  her  dresses,  even  the  one 
or  two  that  might  answer,  will  hang  on  her.  Really,  she 
is  in  no  condition  to  go  anywhere !  " 


A    XEW  ATMOSPHERE.  257 

Miss  Sherburne  gave  a  tired,  fretful  sigh. 

"A  couple  of  flannel  gowns  will  do  her  at  present. 
White  is  as  good  as  anything.  Or  stop — I  have  some 
blue — Cassy  can  go  at  that.  Then  you  can  send  to  the 
city  for  a  few  changes  ;  I  dare  say  she  will  soon  get  stout 
again.  It  is  not  wisdom  to  have  too  many  things  for 
growing  girls." 

Mrs.  Lepage  hunted  up  the  flannel  and  Cassy  went  to 
work.  There  were  visitors,  but  Dell  was  not  disturbed. 
She  lay  in  the  bed  supremely  happy  and  content.  It  was 
as  if  she  had  gone  into  a  new  country. 

"  If  only  it  doesn't  rain  to-morrow,"  she  said  to  Cassy. 

And  it  did  not.  Dell  almost  sprang  out  of  bed.  she 
was  so  joyous. 

"  I  hope  you  will  not  make  any  trouble,"  Miss  Sher- 
burne remarked  as  she  was  looking  up  a  few  articles  of 
clothing.  "  I  do  not  feel  safe  about  your  going  with  no 
one  to  look  after  you,  but  I  really  cannot  spare  Cassy. 
And  she  will  be  busy  altering  your  dresses.  Your  winter 
wardrobe  must  be  considered.  And  there  are  so  many 
things." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE   HOUSE    BEAUTIFUL. 

THERE  was  only  one  thing  for  Dell.  Her  heart  was 
as  light  as  a  bird.  She  sat  still,  although  she  longed  to 
get  up  and  dance  around  the  room.  She  hardly  heard 
the  voice  that  yesterday  rasped  every  nerve  ;  that  would 
now,  only  the  birds  of  hope  were  caroling  in  her  brain. 
She  would  say  no  word  to  offend  Miss  Sherburne,  so  she 
kept  silent,  and  offended  her  bitterly. 

Not  a  hint  of  the  charges  made  upon  her  return  had 
been  broached  between  them.  It  certainly  was  Dell's 
place  to  proffer  a  confession.  How  to  extort  a  word  from 
one  so  obstinately  bent  on  silence  was  beyond  her  capa- 
bilities, unless  she  had  plunged  into  a  sea  of  danger.  She 
did  not  dare  rouse  the  sleeping  lion  and  make  a  scene 
just  now. 

But  she  noted  Dell's  joy  with  a  curious  sense  of  dis- 
may. Her  eyes  were  radiant,  her  lips  were  falling  into 
half  smiles,  then  suddenly  brought  to  a  desperate  prim- 
ness. Surely  the  child  owed  ^rlove  and  gratitude  for 
rescuing  her  from  those  wretched  surroundings,  and 
again  the  motley  crew  under  the  apple-tree  rose  before 
her.  She  had  not  sought  to  cultivate  Dell's  affection,  she 
had  not  cared  ;  but  after  all,  it  was  a  plain  duty  on  the 
child's  part,  and  she  resented  the  lack  of  it.  These  other 
people,  to  whom  she  owed  no  gratitude,  would  win  her 
preference — tenderness — love,  perhaps. 

The  doctor's  carriage  came  winding  around  the  path. 
Miss  Sherburne  went  down.  Cassy  brushed  Dell's  hair 
and  put  on  the  blue  gown,  which  made  her  look  ghostly. 

258 


THE  HOUSE  BEAUTIFUL.  059 

"  Oh  !  "  she  exclaimed  with  a  tearful  sigh  ;  "  I  am  hor- 
rid !  I  am  glad  to  be  buried  out  of  sight." 

"  But  your  hair  is  coming  in,  and  it  will  soon  curl  all 
over  your  head.  And  I  think  you  will  be  quite  slim. 
Miss  Dell.  You  certainly  have  grown  tall." 

Dell  gave  her  a  grateful  little  squeeze.  Then  a  sudden 
gravity  overspread  her  face.  "  Cassy,"  she  began  hesi- 
tatingly, "  I  wish  you  would  do  something  for  me.  Can 
you  make  some  inquiries — quietly — and  see  if  any  one 
lost  some  money — the  last  of  August,  maybe.  What  the 
sum  was,  and  what  the  bills  were,  and  all  the  particu- 
lars. For  I  can't  think  it  was  Miss  Sherburne's.  And 
I  want  the  rightful  owner  to  have  it.  Do,  please.  I 
shall  be  so  grateful  to  you." 

"  Yes,  Miss  Dell,  I  certainly  will." 

The  doctor  came  in  with  a  merry  greeting.  He  bun- 
dled her  up  in  a  shawl  and  carried  her  downstairs, 
across  the  porch  to  the  carriage— he  had  taken  Miss 
Neale's  phaeton  to-day.  Dell  caught  a  glimpse  of  the 
two  graceful  girls,  Ethel  and  Alice  playing  croquet  on 
the  lawn.  Mrs.  Lepage  sat  in  a  large  wicker  chair  on 
the  veranda  with  some  fancy  work  in  her  hand  and 
Florence  dancing  about  like  a  beautiful  cherub.  Miss 
Sherburne  looked  stiff  and  resentful,  and  Dell  felt  the 
unexpressed  reluctance.  The  doctor  tucked  her  in  and 
promised  to  report  the  next  day. 

"  Good-bye,"  they  all  said.  "  Good-bye,"  she  returned. 
A  great  wave  of  satisfaction  thrilled  through  every  nerve. 

"You  are  worlds  better  this  morning,"  and  the  doctor 
smiled  down  into  the  pallid  face. 

"  I  am  glad  to  get  out  of  prison." 

••  I  have  heard  of  people  who  stepped  out  of  the  fry- 
ing pan  into  the  fire." 

"  But  one  may  get  tired  of  continual  sizzling." 

"  Fire  is  purifying — it  burns  up  the  waste  matter,"  and 
the  doctor  gave  her  a  shrewd,  laughing  glance. 


2(50  SHERBURA7E  HOUSE. 

"  And  I  am  not  sure  but  I  have  gone  a  good  deal  to 
waste  latterly,"  she  said  rather  demurely. 

"  Well,  you  had  the  fire  of  the  fever.  And  it  burned 
pretty  fiercely,  let  me  tell  you.  There  were  several  days 
when  I  almost  doubted  my  ability  to  put  out  the  flame." 

"  Was  it  really  so  bad  as  that  ?  " 

"  It  was  pretty  bad,  and  now  I  expect  you  to  give  me 
some  credit  in  getting  well." 

"  I  shall  try.  Oh,  I  know  I  shall  get  well  now,"  and 
a  soft  light  shone  in  her  eyes. 

But  she  was  very  tired  presently.  The  doctor  placed 
his  strong  arm  about  her  and  inclined  her  head  down  on 
his  broad  shoulder.  The  soft  air  and  the  motion  of  the 
carriage  soon  made  her  sleepy.  Long  before  they 
reached  Ardmore  she  had  forgotten  everything.  Indeed, 
she  did  not  rouse  until  the  sudden  cessation  of  the  mo- 
tion startled  her  into  consciousness. 

Doctor  Carew  sprang  out,  then  taking  the  bundle  in 
his  arms  carried  her  through  and  deposited  her  on  the 
old  sofa. 

"  Here  is  a  mummy  for  you,  Neale,"  he  cried  gayly. 
"  I've  invaded  the  pyramid  and  carried  her  off.  Whether 
she  knows  the  secret  buried  with  the  corner  stone  re- 
mains to  be  seen.  I  warn  you  that  Miss  Neale  is  a  bit 
uncanny.  She  has  a  way  of  getting  down  to  the  bottom 
of  your  thoughts  that  is  quite  alarming.  You  had  better 
hand  your  secrets  over  to  me." 

Dell  smiled.  "I  have  only  one,"  she  said,  "and 
should  like  to  hand  that  over  to  somebody." 

"  Well,  we  will  not  trouble  about  it  just  yet,  so  long  as 
it  doesn't  disturb  your  sleep.  Now  I  must  leave  you  to 
the  tender  mercies  of  my  sister,  for  I  have  already 
wasted  a  good  deal  of  time  upon  you.  Good-bye,  and 
allow  yourself  to  be  made  comfortable." 

Miss  Neale  took  off  her  wrappings,  arranged  the  pil- 
lows under  her  head,  and  then  busied  herself  about  her 


THE  HOUSE  BEAUTIFUL.  261 

usual  duties.  Dell  was  wide-awake  now  and  watched 
her  with  a  languid  but  pleasant  interest.  She  was  so 
different  from  Miss  Sherburne.  Just  about  as  tall,  a 
trifle  stouter,  but  rounded,  pliant,  harmonious.  There 
was  nothing  about  her  that  bristled  up.  You  knew  at 
once  you  were  not  likely  to  stroke  her  the  wrong  way, 
while  with  Miss  Sherburne  no  way  seemed  right.  The 
room  too,  was  so  restful.  It  had  not  the  utterly  cleared 
up  look  of  Sherburne  House  ;  and  the  big  table  almost 
groaned  under  its  load  of  books  and  papers.  But  there 
was  space  for  one  splendid  autumnal  bouquet,  wood 
asters  of  nearly  every  shade.  The  long  rays  of  sunshine 
almost  put  out  the  fire  that  smouldered  sleepily  on  the 
hearth. 

"Oh.it  is  all  so  nice!"  Dell  exclaimed  with  a  long, 
happy  sigh.  "  It  feels  like  home.  I  used  to  think  there 
could  be  no  place  like  Mamma  Murray's — "  then  Dell 
caught  Miss  Neale's  gown  as  she  was  passing,  and  the 
soft  eyes  smiled  down  into  hers,  the  arms  enclosed  her 
caressingly. 

"You  are  so  sweet!  "and  the  lonely  girl  was  crying 
OP.  Miss  Neale's  shoulder. 

The  doctor  bounced  into  the  room,  amazed. 

••  Hi !  hi !  "  he  cried.     "  I  thought  the  sun  shone  !  " 

"Can't  I  have  a  shower,  just  a  pure  joy  shower," 
said  Dell  with  spirit.  "  It's  so  long  since  I  cried  for  joy. 
And  when  it  rains  in  the  sunshine  you  can  find  a  pot  of 
gold  at  the  end  of  the  rainbow.  Mamma  Murray  said 
they  told  her  so,  when  she  was  a  little  girl." 

"No  one  ever  went  after  it  but  wild  geese.  As  if 
they  wanted  money  !  "  flung  out  the  doctor  disdainfully. 
"  Xeale,  where  is  that  last  review  ?  " 

Miss  Carew  put  her  hand  on  it  at  once. 

••  Thank  you."  Then  he  went  over  and  took  a  look 
at  Dell.  Something  in  the  large  wistful  eyes  moved  him 
immeasurably,  and  stooping  over  he  kissed  her. 


:><>2  SHEEBURNE  HOUSE. 

"There,  be  a  good  girl,"  he  said  in  a  tone  of  assumed 
gayety.  "  Don't  make  Miss  Neale's  life" a  burthen." 

All  the  remainder  of  the  day  they  had  to  themselves. 
Dell  sat  up  by  the  window  and  looked  out  over  a  new 
landscape,  she  had  naps  innumerable.  Miss  Carew  was 
in  and  out,  and  during  the  afternoon  read  her  Jean 
Ingelow's  "  Songs  of  Seven." 

"Oh,"  cried  Dell  in  a  tremble  of  joy  ;  "how  beauti- 
ful it  is.  And  I  thought  I  did  not  like  verses,  only  some 
little  songs  Mamma  Murray  used  to  sing.  Why,  you 
can  fairly  smell  the  clover,  and  see  the  dazzle  of  butter- 
flies! " 

Certainly  the  face  was  not  irremediably  plain  in  that 
glow  of  enthusiasm. 

They  had  a  pretty  tea  together.  Sheba,  a  grave,  mid- 
dle-aged woman  who  looked  like  an  Egyptian  princess. 
Dell  declared,  waited  upon  them  with  all  the  perfection 
of  Sherburne  House.  Dell  felt  so  at  home.  It  seemed 
now  as  if  she  had  known  Miss  Neale  forever,  and  spent 
weeks  in  this  room. 

It  was  quite  dark  when  the  doctor  came  in. 

"Hallo!"  he  cried  gayly.  "Are  you  homesick 
and  waiting  for  me  to  take  you  back  to  Sherburne 
House?" 

"  Do  not  recall  it  to  mind  !  "  Dell  implored. 

The  doctor  sat  down  beside  her,  felt  her  pulse,  gave 
her  ear  a  little  pinch  and  asked  her  some  questions. 

"  You  are  certainly  none  the  worse,"  he  said.  "  15 tit 
your  day  has  been  quite  long  enough  and  you  must  be 
transported  to  your  downy  couch.  Isn't  that  rather  neat 
for  an  old  fellow  like  me?  You  haven't  an  idea  of  the 
nice  things  I  can  say." 

"  I  suppose  she  ought  to  go  to  bed,"  said  Miss  Carew. 

"  Yes.  I'll  carry  her  up  while  she  is  such  a  light  weight. 
It  will  not  do  for  me  to  strain  my  constitution  when  she 
begins  to  gain  in  flesh." 


THE  HOUSE  BEAUTIFUL.  263 

"  Oh,  I  do  not  want  to.  I'd  rather  be  thin,"  returned 
Dell,  with  such  anxiety  that  the  doctor  laughed. 

"  You  look  now  as  if  the  crows  had  made  a  meal  of 
you  and  expected  to  come  back  and  finish  the  bones. 
Neale,  it  will  be  hardly  safe  to  leave  windows  open. 
Well,  will  you  trust  me  to  carry  you  up?" 

She  was  borne  triumphantly.  "  Oh,"  with  a  soft  little 
ripple  of  merriment,  "  how  strong  you  are  !  It  is  ahnost 
— like  papa  Murray." 

"Come!  I  warn  you  I  shall  be  furiously  jealous!  I 
can  stand  Mamma  Murray,  but  to  know  I  have  a  rival  in 
the  grand  art  of  carrying  you  up  and  downstairs  is  too 
much.  There,  I  turn  you  over  to  Miss  Neale  and  leave 
you  to  repent  of  your  heinous  ingratitude." 

Miss  Neale  had  arranged  a  cot  in  her  room,  so  that 
Dell  would  not  feel  lonely.  She  disrobed  her  with  such 
soft,  lingering  touches  that  each  one  was  like  a  caress. 

"  You  are  so  good  to  me,"  Dell  said  with  a  little  sob 
just  under  her  breath,  as  she  kissed  her. 

"  Shall  I  send  up  some  one  to  sit  with  you  ?  " 

"Oh  no.  I  feel  as  if  I  were  in  fairyland.  And  I  do 
not  want  to  be  a  trouble  to  you." 

"  Do  not  think  of  such  a  thing,  my  dear  child." 

Miss  Neale  went  out  to  the  dining-room  to  give  the 
doctor  his  supper.  He  was  hungry  and  for  some  mo- 
ments ate  in  silence.  Then  he  said  interrogatively — 
-Well?" 

"  She  will  be  no  trouble  at  all,  Randolph,  and  she  is 
so  grateful,  so  frank  and  honest.  I  think  Miss  Sherburne 
has  begun  mistakenly,  and  I  do  not  believe  she  will  be 
so  very  plain.  She  has  lovely  eyes,  and  her  nose  is 
straight,  with  a  sort  of  decided  character.  Children 
change  so  much.  But  she  does  not  favor  the  Sher- 
burnes  at  present." 

"She'll  never  be  pretty,  but  she  maybe  extremely 
fine-looking.  It  is  strange  how  we  are  always  protest- 


2fi4  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

ing  against  beauty,  and  how  it  rules  us.  The  Shei  burnes 
are  all  a  good-looking  lot,  and  for  this  child  to  be  posi- 
tively ugly,  would  be  a  sort  of  deformity  inherited  from 
her  mother.  And  I  shall  set  about  making  her  hand- 
some. I  always  had  a  weakness  for  pretty  women." 

Miss  Neale  laughed. 

"  Whittingham  is  coming  over  on  Sunday  to  dine.  !  it- 
enjoyed  the  coup  immensely.  But  she  would  have  been 
months  getting  well  there.  Her  nerves  have  had  too 
much  strain.  And  the  idea  of  taking  up  lessons  in  a 
week  or  two !  What  in  nature  does  possess  people  !  " 
"Thunder!"  he  would  have  said  if  he  had  been  out  of 
doors,  but  he  had  a  tender  regard  for  Miss  Neale's  feel- 
ings. "  She  raced  over  miles  of  Latin  and  acres  of 
French  verbs,  while  she  was  careering  in  the  bed,  wilder 
than  a  hawk.  Doubtless  she  was  pushed  to  the  utmost 
there  in  New  York,  then  to  be  pinned  to  books  all  the  hot 
summer — talk  of  cruelty  to  animals,  slaves — this  is 
Herodian  murder  of  the  innocents,  of  brain  and  nerve 
tissue.  Lucky  that  she  came  through  it  at  all.  And 
Miss  Sherburne  is  just  that  sort  of  twisted  up,  morbidly 
conscientious  being,  that  the  child's  death  would  have 
been  a  thorn  in  her  soul  to  prick  her  all  her  days." 

"  Yes,  I  think  she  meant  to  do  her  whole  duty." 

"  Your  good  people  are  always  making  a  scapegoat  of 
Duty.  You  see  the  old  Jews  were  wiser.  They  bundled 
their  sins  on  him  and  let  him  go  out  in  the  wilderness,  to 
shake  them  off  maybe,  but  we  keep  him  under  our  very 
eyes  and  stumble  over  him  to  wound  and  bruise  our- 
selves. We  are  willing  to  do  our  duty  but  it  must  be 
done  within  the  lines  of  our  own  red  tape.  Where's  the 
dessert?  I  can't  be  defrauded  of  a  single  right." 

Miss  Neale  touched  the  bell. 

Afterward  they  went  back  to  the  home-room,  and 
settled  themselves.  Miss  Neale  took  up  a  lapfull  of  some 
white  stuff  that  had  a  bit  of  rose  color  here  and  there. 


THE  HOUSE  BEAUTIFUL.  2H5 

"  What  in  the  name  of  wonder  are  you  concocting 
there?  It  looks  good  enough  to  eat  in  milk." 

"  Rubbish  ;  "  and  she  laughed.  "  You  must  not  be  so 
curious." 

He  nodded  in  an  odd,  humorous  manner. 

Dell  slept  delightfully.  When  she  woke,  the  room 
was  in  a  flood  of  sunshine,  the  screen  beside  her  keeping 
it  out  of  her  eyes.  She  felt  so  bright  and  well  that  she 
almost  bounded  out  of  bed.  But  a  great  tremble  warned 
her.  It  was  so  queer  to  be  weak  and  helpless  in  body 
when  one  felt  so  buoyant  of  heart. 

She  did  not  have  to  wait  long,  however.  Sheba,  a 
religious  mother  had  been  charmed  with  the  high-sound- 
ing name  of  Bathsheba,  but  it  was  so  long  ago  she  had 
almost  forgotten  the  first  part  herself— looked  in  at  the 
door. 

"  Miss  Neale  sent  me  to  see  if  you  were  wakin'  up. 
Ther's  no  hurry,  Missy." 

"  But  I  would  like  to  get  up,"  said  Dell,  "  if  it  is  con- 
venient." 

"  Yes,  any  time.  Miss  Neale  busy  out  in  de  kitchen, 
an'  if  Missy  doan  mind  I'll  dress  her." 

Missy  assented.  Sheba's  fingers  were  not  quite  as  deft 
?s  Cassy's,  but  they  did  very  well.  Then  she  carried  her 
•I'.r-wn  to  the  home-room. 

"  Where  is  the  doctor?  "  Dell  asked. 

"  Called  out  airly  dis  mornin',  Missy— not  mor'n  four 
o'clock.  Doctors  lib  on  a  kinder  jump  en'  never  know 
how  long  dey'll  be  'lowed  in  one  place." 

Miss  Neale  entered  with  a  smile  and  kindly  greeting. 
Her  hair  was  a  pretty  mass  of  waves,  and  over  her  soft 
grey  dress  she  wore  a  large  white  apron  with  a  bib,  that 
somehow  made  her  look  like  a  great  girl. 

••  I  wonder  if  I  am  making  you  too  much  trouble?' 
said  Dell  a  little  anxiously. 

"You  are  not  to  think  of  that.     The  doctor  wishes  you 


2G6  SHERBUBNE  HOUSE. 

to  have  all  the  sleep  you  can  get.  And  now  Sheba  shall 
bring  you  in  some  breakfast.  Saturday  is  a  sort  of 
housekeeping  day  with  me,  in  which  I  make  up  the 
week's  shortcomings.  How  bright  you  look." 

"  I  should  feel  altogether  well  if  it  wasn't  for  a  queer 
shakiness  when  I  make  an  effort.  I  never  was  ill 
before.  " 

"  You  are  weak  after  all  the  strain.  And  the  doctor 
said  if  you  were  not  tired  from  yesterday's  journey,  I 
could  take  you  out  in  my  phaeton  for  half  an  hour." 

"  Oh,  how  delightful !  "     Her  eyes  were  humid. 

Miss  Neale  brought  some  crocheting  and  sat  opposite 
while  she  ate  her  breakfast.  Everything  tasted  so  good. 
There  were  some  luscious  late  peaches,  and  magnifi- 
cent grapes. 

Dell  read  a  little.  She  was  still  bewitched  with 
"  Songs  of  Seven."  It  left  such  a  lovely  rythmical 
refrain  floating  in  the  very  atmosphere.  And  one  verse 
seemed  written  for  her  : 

I  wait  for  my  story — the  birds  cannot  sing  it, 

Not  one  as  he  sits  on  the  tree ; 
The  bells  cannot  ring  it,  but  long  years,  oh,  bring  it ! 

Such  as  I  wish  it  to  be  ! 

Ah,  what  did  she  wish  it  to  be?  To  go  back  to  the 
Murrays?  Did  it  savor  of  ingratitude  not  to  long  to  re- 
turn to  them  as  she  had  before?  If  she  could  stay  here, 
but  Ardmore  was  not  so  far  from  Sherburne  House,  and 
as  the  years  went  on  she  might  be  allowed  some  choice 
of  friends.  Surely  she  had  made  a  staunch  one  in  the 
doctor. 

The  ride  in  the  phaeton  was  delightful.  Miss  Neale 
had  a  pretty  iron-grey  pony,  round  and  sleek,  with  a 
beautiful  long  mane  and  tail,  and  so  gentle  that  Miss 
Neale  said  if  Dell  were  a  little  stronger  she  might  take  a 
lesson  in  driving. 


THE  HOUSE  BEAUTIFUL,  2G7 

The  doctor  lived  quite  at  one  end  of  the  town.  Out 
beyond  there  were  numerous  plantations  in  various 
stages  of  neglect,  their  owners  dead  or  gone  away. 
Now  and  then  one  showed  evidence  of  thrift.  There 
were  some  small  negro  colonies,  but  they  were  not  as 
orderly  as  the  quarters  at  Sherburne  House. 

"Miss  Sherburne  is  a  very  uncommon  manager," 
said  Miss  Carew.  "Then  too,  soon  after  the  war  ended, 
the  coal  and  iron  mines  were  worked  and  there  was 
money  enough  to  keep  Sherburne  House  properly. 
Your  great-grandfather  had  the  wisdom  to  see  that 
slavery  was  ceasing  to  be  profitable  even  in  his  day, 
and  that  its  only  chance  was  in  the  far  South.  So  your 
own  grandfather  was  educated  with  broader  ideas,  and 
accepted  the  change  more  readily.  Still,  all  the  family 
owe  much  to  Miss  Aurelia." 

Was  she  in  any  way  indebted  to  her,  Dell  wondered. 
Somehow  she  almost  wished  Miss  Sherburne  would  not 
evince  so  much  anxiety.  There  would  be  money  enough 
in  any  event. 

The  air  was  so  still  that  every  branch  was  outlined 
against  the  smoky  red  sky.  And  oh,  what  a  rich  fragrance 
freighted  the  air !  It  was  good  to  be  alive,  and  Dell 
said  so  in  her  eager,  fervent  fashion.  Surely,  she  was 
not  a  dull  or  indifferent  child.  All  things  seemed  to 
touch  her  keenly. 

But  she  was  pretty  tired  when  'Rius,  short  for 
Darius,  the  old  factotum  who  honestly  believed  the 
doctor,  house  and  all  would  go  to  ruin  without  him, 
lifted  her  out  and  carried  her  into  the  house.  She  had 
a  good  nap  on  the  old  sofa  before  dinner.  Miss  Neale 
had  been  busy  sewing  over  in  her  corner. 

It  was  mid -afternoon  before  the  doctor  came  in, 
declaring  he  was  tired  to  death.  He  had  been  every- 
where, even  over  to  Sherburne  House  to  report,  and 
on  Monday  the  young  ladies  were  all  to  drive  in  to  see 


268  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

for  themselves  how  Dell  progressed.  He  had  some 
dinner  and  shut  himself  up  in  his  office  to  take  a  nap. 
The  bright  day  had  clouded  over  and  the  wind  rustled 
and  sighed  through  the  pines  with  a  shivering  metallic 
sound.  By  dark  there  was  a  gentle  pattering  rain. 

But  Sunday  morning  was  lovely  again,  not  sunshiny 
but  soft,  and  with  no  threatening  clouds,  the  air  per- 
vaded by  a  moist  autumnal  fragrance. 

"You  will  not  mind  my  going  to  church,"  Miss 
Neale  said.  "  I  promised  to  take  old  Miss  Floyd,  and 
it  is  quite  a  long  drive,  so  I  have  to  start  early.  And 
the  doctor  was  called  out.  I  was  to  tell  you  that  Mr. 
Whittingham  was  to  be  here  to  dine,  will  you  mind  see- 
ing him  ?  " 

"  Oh  no,  I  shall  like  to." 

Miss  Carew  kissed  her  tenderly.  "  Dinah  will  attend 
to  you  this  morning,"  she  said.  "  Every  other  Sunday 
Sheba  goes  to  visit  her  granddaughter,  who  is  living  at 
some  distance.  But  Dinah  is  very  nice." 

There  was  a  cheerful  fire  blazing  on  the  hearth. 
Dinah  came  in  with  her  arms  full  of  various  articles. 
She  was  quite  different  from  Sheba,  more  indeed  like 
their  own  Dinah,  with  her  superabundance  of  flesh,  her 
black,  shiny  skin  and  soft  large  eyes.  A  gay  turban 
was  wound  around  her  head,  but  below  its  edge  peeped 
a  few  crinkly  braided  tails,  while  Sheba's  hair  seemed 
to  have  some  Indian  admixture  in  it.  Her  hands  were 
plump  and  soft  as  cushions.  Then  she  had  a  caressing 
mammy -like  way,  so  natural  to  many  of  the  elder 
Southern  negroes.  She  bathed  Dell,  put  on  her  stock- 
ings and  slippers,  and  brushed  her  hair  with  an  almost 
magnetic  touch. 

"  Pity  'bout  yeh  ha'r,"  she  said  with  her  broad,  soft 
accent.  "But  mos'  allus  does  come  out'n  fever.  An' 
yeh  bin  monst'ous  sick.  I  hear  Mas'r  Doctor  talkin' 
'bout  it.  But'll  grow  out." 


THE  HOUSE  BEAUTIFUL.  269 

"  I  hope  it  will  not  be  red,"  said  Dell  anxiously. 
••  When  I  came  from  England  with  my  own  mamma,  I 
had  long  golden  curls.  They  were  such  a  trouble  I 
wanted  them  cut  off.  Then  it  all  grew  queer  and 
streaky  and  was  a  great  mop.  They  cut  it  when  I 
was  ill,  but  it  has  nearly  all  fallen  out,"  she  ended 
ruefully. 

"  Well,  de  new  is  jes'  like  soft  cat  ha'r,  on'y  it's  tryin' 
to  curl.  An'  'twon't  be  red,  'cause  you've  got  such 
dark  eyebrows  an'  long,  glisteny  lashes.  An'  w'en 
yeh  git  some  fat  on  yeh  bones  it  all  be  right,  Missy. 
An'  here's  yeh  nice  new  gown  Miss  Neale  she  mek  fur 
yeh." 

"  Oh  !  "     It  was  just  a  cry  of  delight. 

A  soft,  thick,  creamy  flannel,  not  very  fine  in  texture, 
but  with  a  long  nap  that  seemed  almost  like  fur.  There 
was  a  band  of  light  grey  canton  flannel  around  the 
bottom,  and  a  wide  sailor  collar  and  cuffs.  Down  the 
front  were  small  rose-colored  bows  with  a  ribbon  to  tie 
at  the  neck,  another  at  the  waist. 

"Oh,  how  -beautiful!  And  to  make  it  for  me! 
There  never  was  anybody  so  sweet  and  good.  For 
you  see  I  wasn't  even  a  friend  or  acquaintance,  and 
she  has  only  known  me  such  a  little  while." 

Dell  laid  her  cheek  caressingly  on  the  soft  flannel. 

"She's  jes'  de  Lawd's  own,  honey.  She's  allus 
mekin'  de  waste  places  sing  an'  de  wild' ness  re- 
joice." 

"  Oh,  why  wasn't  she  married  !"  cried  Dell,  remem- 
bering all  that  she  and  Con  had  said  about  old  maids, 
and  positively  hating  to  have  her  classed  in  the  same- 
category  as  Miss  Sherburne.  Why,  she  was  as  sweet 
as  Mamma  Murray,  and  she  ought  to  have  children  of 
her  own  climbing  her  knees. 

"  Well,  dat's  a  myst'ry,  shuah.  'Tain't  for  want  o'  no 
chances  !  An'  she  ain't  no  ol'  maid,"  rather  resentfully. 


370  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

"She's  muddered  more  chillen,  jes'  as  de  Bible  says, 
clan  she  dat  has  a  husbin,  'n'  if  dey  all  rise  up  an'  call 
her  blessed  at  de  las'  day,  black  'n'  white  'n'  all  colors, 
golly,  won't  dere  be  a  percesshun  !  De  Lavvd  he  won't 
be  askin'  pertikelars,  '.cause  dey'll  all  be  shouten'  how 
she  done  fed  'em  an'  put  cloze  on  'em  an'  good  tings  in 
dere  poor  empty  stomachs,  an'  bin'  up  dere  broken 
hearts  an'  dere  woun's,  an'  go  fix  up  de  dead  and  have 
'em  buried  decent.  An*  she  doan'  go  by  on  de  odder 
side  like  dat  proud  ol'  Phar'see." 

Dell  was  flicking  away  the  tears  with  her  thin  fingers. 
Yes,  there  were  generous  people  in  the  world,  Mamma 
Murray,  who  gave  her  so  much  love  and  care,  and  now 
Miss  Neale. 

"  Doan'  cry,  chile.  It's  jes'  pure  'joicin'  natur'. 
Dough  I  spec  ol'  Mis'  at  Sherburne  ain't  jes'  dat  kind, 
Dey's  mighty  nice  folks,  dem  Sherburnes,  'stocratic  an' 
all  dat,  but  dey  doan'  hold  a  candle  to  Miss  Neale.  My 
ol'  mammy  wuz  one  ob  de  Sherburne  slaves  long  time 
ago,  'n'  sold  Souf.  I  grow  up  in  Georgy  'n'  my  two 
brudders,  Jake  an'  Effrum.  An'  when  de'war  come  an' 
we's  all  git  free,  I  'member  my  ol'  mammy  dead  an' 
gone  sayin',  Dinah,  yeh  git  back  to  ol'  Ferginny  ef 
ebber  yeh  kin.  Ain't  no  sech  odder  c6untry  on  God's 
yearth  &s  ol'  Ferginny." 

"  But  you  did  not  go  to  Sherburne?  "  said  Dell,  her 
bright  eyes  betraying  her  interest. 

"  No.  Yeh  see  tings  all  changed  ;  and  de  doctor  he 
wantin'  somebody.  Den  I  hear  ol'  Miss  kinder  straight 
an'  stiff  an'  sharp  like,  an'  mebbe  wouldn't  want  me,  nor 
'member  my  ol'  mammy.  An'  de  Lawd  he  jes'  d'rected 
my  steps  right  into  Miss  Neale's  sunshine.  An'  honey, 
I  spec  Heabben  gone  ter  be  jes'  full  o'  sech  folks." 

"But  what  is  to  be  done  with  the  other  real  good 
people  who  are  not  pleasant  to  live  with  ? "  asked  Dell 
much  puzzled.  "  They  are  not  wicked." 


THE  HOUSE  BEAUTIFUL.  271 

"  Dunno,  chile.  Dar's  San  Paul,  yeh  know,  talk 
'bout  tree  heabbens,  an'  he  say  he  seen  tings  yeh  not 
'lowed  to  talk  'bout.  I  spec  dat  de  fust-class  heabben. 
'cause  dere's  sight  o'  talkin'  'bout  todder  one  and  ebery- 
body  'spectin'  to  git  dar.  But  sec-h  clear  white  people  as 
Miss  Neale,  dat  hab  cle  glory  of  God  shinin'  tru  all  ober, 
go  straight  up  dere  to  dat  highest  place.  An'  mebbe  de 
res'  try  a  little  more.  An'  now  I  mus'  carry  you  down 
to  yeh  breakfas'." 

"  Oh,  I  am  sure  I  can  walk." 

"No,  Mas'r  Doctor  he  say  you  doan'  walk  up  and 
down.  Mebbe  yeh  get  dizzy  and  tumble." 

Dinah  picked  her  up  in  her  strong  arms  and  carried 
her  with  the  utmost  ease.  Then  she  brought  hi  her 
breakfast. 

"  I  am  sure  I  never  was  so  hungry  in  all  my  life." 

Dinah  laughed  with  a  rich  mellowness. 

How  lovely  the  room  looked.  There  was  a  great  jar 
full  of  autumnal  branches,  maple,  oak  with  acorns,  wild 
plum  with  some  purple  fruit  ;  bowls  of  flowers  set  around. 
There  was  no  especial  Sunday  look,  yet  as  she  studied 
the  sunshine  and  the  peace,  a  verse  of  the  Psalms  came 
to  her. 

This  is  the  day  the  Lord  hath  made, 
Let  us  rejoice  and  be  glad  in  it. 

Every  day  was  his  work,  every  morning  a  new  resur- 
rection. There  was  the  greater  festival  when  the  Lord 
arose,  the  Sunday  laying  aside  of  worldly  things,  the 
Lord's  day.  Why  did  it  seem  so  much  more  devotional 
here?  And  why  was  not  everybody  trying  to  make 
some  one  happy,  like  Miss  Neale  ?  Had  she  ever  really 
tried?  She  had  been  good  and  pleasant,  in  a  happy, 
thoughtless  way,  when  all  was  in  harmony  around  her. 
Did  Miss  Neale  do  her  good  work  only  when  everything 
was  pleasant  and  satisfactory  ? 


•272  SHERBURNE   HOUSE. 

She  finished  her  breakfast  and  wandered  about  the 
room,  inhaling  the  sweet  odors  and  studying  the  home- 
like arrangements.  Sherburne  House  seemed  cold  and 
stiff.  In  a  vague  way  she  felt  that  it  lacked  the  real 
heartiness  of  love.  Perhaps  before  she  came  it  might 
have  been  different,  and  she  sighed. 

She  drifted  around  to  Miss  Neale's  corner,  and  picked 
up  her  prayer-book.  How  many  long  psalms  she  had 
studied  during  the  summer !  It  opened  of  itself  and  she 
glanced  at  a  verse. 

"  Praise  the  Lord  for  it  is  a  good  thing  to  sing  praises 
unto  the  Lord  :  yea,  a  joyful  and  a  pleasant  thing  it  is  to 
be  thankful." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE  TOUCH  THAT  MAKES  THE  WORLD  AKIN. 

SOME  one  entered  the  room  and  Lyndell  started, 
turned  partly  around,  and  smiled. 

"  Well  !  well !  "  cried  the  doctor.  "  Are  you  posing 
for  statuary  ?  Lucky  about  that  pink  ribbon  under  your 
chin,  or  one  wouldn't  be  able  to  tell  where  the  girl 
ended  and  the  gown  began." 

"  Don't  you  like  it  ?  "  asked  Dell  eagerly,  yet  with  a 
touch  of  something  between  resentment  and  anxiety. 
"It  is  a  Sunday  morning  gift  from  my  dear  Miss  Neale, 
and  I  think  it  so  lovely." 

"  I  like  white  gowns.  And  this  is  pretty,  but  it  makes 
you  look  like  a  young  lady.  I  am  fond  of  girls,  real 
girls.  I  used  to  think  I'd  give  everything  I  had,  if  my 
cub  was  only  a  girl,  but  I'm  quite  content  now." 

"  Your — cub  !  "  cried  Dell,  in  amazement. 

"Yes."  There  was  a  spice  of  amusement  in  the  doc- 
tor's face.  "  You  didn't  dream  that  I  had  a  son  up  in 
New  York  at  Columbia  College  ?  " 

"  Why,  no  ;  how  could  I  ?  " 

"To  be  sure.  Miss  Neale  mothered  him  until  she 
had  him  quite  spoiled.  And  now  she  will  spoil  you." 

"  But  it  is  just  lovely  to  be  spoiled  " — and  Dell  s  eyes 
filled  with  a  tender  light. 

"  Why  doesn't  some  one  take  a  hand  in  spoiling  me?  " 
the  doctor  asked,  in  a  whimsical  tone.  "  Well,  how  do 
you  feel — long  and  thin  ?  " 

••  Yes,  I  do,"  said  Dell,  laughing.  "  It  seems  to  me  I 
273 


274  SHE R BURNS  HOUSE. 

grow  about  an  inch  every  night.  And  I  should  like  to 
stay  a  girl.  I  don't  want  to  turn  into  a  young  lady.  And 
I  am  almost  well.  If  I  had  a  little  more  strength  I 
should  want  to  run  and  shout  for  very  delight." 

"  Then  you  do  know  how  to  run?  "  The  doctor  ele- 
vated his  brows  rather  incredulously. 

"  Run  !  "  cried  Dell,  with  superb  disdain.  "  I  should 
think  I  did!  Why,  there  wasn't  a  boy  about  Murray's 
Row  that  could  beat  me !  Or  jumping  either,  right 
along,  the  best  three  out  of  five.  But  I  suppose  it  wasn't 
ladylike,"  she  added  ruefully. 

"  It  goes  to  make  a  good  animal,  and  keeps  the  nerves 
from  getting  too  fine  and  threadbare.  You  haven't  done 
much  running  here  ?  " 

"  Miss  Sherburne  thinks  it  dreadfully  rude  and  rough. 
I  ran  with  Ned  Beaumanoir,  and  she  was— offended," 
said  Dell,  rather  softly.  "  But  the  week  she  was  away 
Miss  Hendricks  allowed  me  to,  and  we  had  some  splen- 
did walks." 

"  Ned  is  a  Miss  Nancy  !  But  he  will  be  packed  off  to 
school  presently,  which  will  prove  his  salvation.  You 
drove  out  every  day  ?  " 

"  No-o — "  the  child  answered  slowly  ;  "  I'm  afraid  I 
wasn't  very  good.  There  were  extra  tasks  when  I  was 
in  disgrace,  and  I  had  to  stay  in  my  own  room." 

"You  had  your  regular  meals?"  was  the  sharp  in- 
quiry, which  made  her  flush. 

"  I  had  some  bread  and  a  glass  of  milk.  Oh,  I 
thought  at  first  I  should  be  starved  !  You  see  I  had 
been  used  to  eating  all  I  wanted.  Mamma  Murray 
never  found  any  fault.  After  awhile  I  got  over  feeling 
so  hungry.  And  when  I  was  in  New  York  I  did  not 
want  nearly  so  much." 

"What  did  you  do  that  was  so  dreadfully  bad  ?  " 

Dell  colored  faintly. 

"  You  see  it  was  all  so  different,"  she  answered,  with 


TOUCH  THAT  MAKES  THE  WORLD  AKIN.     275 

a  rather  perplexed  air.  "  I  did  not  mean  to  be  saucy  or 
rude — at  least — "  hesitatingly. 

' '  What  did  Mamma  Murray  do  when  you  were  all  bad 
together?  "  he  asked,  raising  his  brows. 

Dell  opened  her  eyes  wide  and  stared  at  the  doctor. 
Just  now  they  had  the  limpidness  of  beautiful  brown 
quartz. 

"  It  doesn't  seem  to  me  that  we  were  ever  very  bad. 
I  am  afraid  I  can't  make  you  understand,"  and  she 
drew  her  brows  together  thoughtfully,  "  but  we  were  busy 
and  merry,  we  helped  each  other  and  took  care  of  the 
babies,  and  played  and  had  no  end  of  fun.  And  when 
we  did  anything  real  wrong  we  were  always  sorry  and 
wanted  to  make  it  all  right  and  straight.  We  gave  up 
something  that  would  have  pleased  us  very  much,  but 
no  one  took  it  away.  Oh,  dear,  how  many  tangles  there 
are  when  you  go  to  new  places.  And,  troubles " 

"Well,  they'll  keep  over  until  Monday.  It's  a  good 
plan  to  bury  them  in  a  pit  as  the  farmers  do  their  winter 
vegetables.  The  sound,  well-grown  ones  will  come  out 
plump  and  fresh,  but  the  little  ones  shrivel  and  shrink 
up,  so  you  give  them  a  toss  and  that  is  the  last  of  them. 
And  some  troubles  that  look  very  large,  if  stowed  away 
out  of  sight,  would  shrink  to  nothing." 

Dell  smiled  rather  faintly.  "  I'm  afraid  mine  will  be 
the  plump  ones,"  she  said.  "  And  I'd  like  to  ask  you  " 
— she  paused  thoughtfully. 

"You  shall  ask  me  all  the  questions  that  you  can't 
answer  for  yourself.  But  not  this  morning.  Let  them 
go  now  for  awhile.  Did  Miss  Neale  tell  you  Mr.  Whit- 
tingham  was  coming  over  to  dinner?  And  you  must  be 
calm  and  serene." 

"So  that  he  may  see  me  in  a  new  phase?  He  has 
seea  me  in  so  many  different  ones.  I  am  like  the  cha- 
meleon ;  it  wouldn't  be  safe  to  venture  a  prediction  as  to 
what  I  shall  be." 


276  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

The  doctor  laughed. 

"Oh,"  cried  Dell,  "  he  is  coming  now." 

Sure  enough  his  well-groomed  horse  came  trotting 
along.  The  doctor  went  out  to  receive  his  guest,  and 
presently  ushered  him  into  the  room.  Mr.  Whittingham 
started  at  the  first  glimpse  of  Dell. 

"  Why,  I  should  not  have  known  you,"  he  exclaimed, 
in  the  utmost  surprise. 

"  I  am  thin  and  bald  and,  may  be,  old,"  said  Dell, 
rather  ruefully.  "  It  seems  a  hundred  years  since  I  went 
to  New  York." 

"  And  you  look  so  utterly  unlike  the  girl  we  captured 
last  June  that  I  can  hardly  believe  my  senses.  How  tall 
you  are  " — and  he  eyed  her  from  head  to  foot. 

"There  never  will  be  any  Dell  Murray  again,"  she 
said  a  little  sadly,  as  if  she  hated  to  lose  the  old  person- 
ality. 

"  But  we  mean  to  hold  fast  to  Dell  Sherburne,"  re- 
sponded the  doctor  quickly.  "I'll  brew  a  hair  tonic 
warranted  to  turn  your  hair  white  in  a  single  night,  and 
find  some  wonderful  preparation  for  adipose  tissue." 

"  But  I  don't  want  to  get  disgracefully  fat,  as  I  was 
before,"  interrupted  Dell.  "None  of  the  Sherburnes 
are  fat." 

"  Hoity,  toity  ! "  cried  the  doctor.  "What  do  you 
say  to  Mrs.  Beaumanoir?  And  Mrs.  Stanwood  is  a 
regular  dumpling." 

"Oh!"  Dell  drew  a  relieved  breath.  "But  all  the 
girls  are  slim,  and  I  felt  almost  as  if  I  was  an  elephant," 
she  said  protestingly. 

"  But  an  elephant  always  takes  his  trunk  when  he  trav- 
els, and  you  do  not.  Try  for  a  better  simile." 

Miss  Neale's  phaeton  wheeled  around  the  corner,  and 
she  nodded  to  them  through  the  window.  In  a  few  mo- 
ments she  joined  the  group,  and  graciously  apologized 
for  being  a  little  late.  Dinah  had  the  dinner  ready  to 


TOUCH  THAT  MAKES  THE  WORLD  AKIN.     277 

serve,  and  Dell  was  allowed  to  go  out  on  the  doctor's 
arm.  There  was  an  agreeable  quartet,  and  Dell  was 
roused  to  her  olden  gayety  by  the  bits  of  frank,  quaint 
humor.  Mr.  Whittingham  was  something  like  Miss 
Neale,  she  thought,  only  the  fastidiousness  seemed  more 
pronounced.  But  both  were  so  delicate  and  refined, 
while  the  doctor's  breadth  of  shoulder,  strong  arms  and 
hands,  and  vigor  written  in  every  line  of  his  weather- 
beaten  face  pleased  her  by  the  striking  contrast.  He 
wore  a  full  beard,  rather  on  the  warm  chestnut  tint — not 
so  very  unlike  her  hair,  when  she  had  any.  His  eyes 
were  a  cordial,  merry  blue,  but  a  touch  of  emotion 
turned  them  sympathetic,  although  even  then  they  might 
laugh  at  you  a  little. 

Dell's  wits  had  been  sharpened  by  contact  with  the 
Murrays,  and  feeling  under  no  restraint,  she  was  her 
own  joyous,  childlike  self.  She  surprised  both  gentle- 
men by  her  bright  sallies.  It  seemed  to  her  that  she  had 
never  been  so  really  happy  ! 

The  doctor  and  his  guest  went  to  the  office  for  an  af- 
ter-dinner smoke. 

"  Now  you  must  lie  down  on  the  sofa  and  take  a 
good  rest,"  said  Miss  Neale,  as  they  entered  the  home- 
room. 

Dell  reached  up  and  put  her  arms  around  Miss 
Carew's  neck,  surprised  at  her  own  tallness. 

"  I  must  thank  you  for  my  pretty  gown.  Dinah  said 
you  made  it  for  me.  But  oh,  what  words  will  express 
my  delight !  It  is  so  soft  and  lovely  and  comfortable." 

"  And  you  do  not  look  so  much  like  a  sick  girl  in  it. 
The  dark  blue  is  very  trying  at  present,  but  you  will 
find  it  serviceable.  I  am  fond  of  greys,  though  they  are 
rather  old,  unless  very  much  brightened  up.  But  white 
is  becoming  for  any  stage  of  youth." 

"  You  are  so— so  kindly.  People  are  sometimes  good 
without  being  truly  kind.  I'd  like  to  call  you  by  a  name 


,'76  SHERBURNE  HOUSE 

I  found  in  a  book  I  read  not  long  ago.  It  would  just 
suit  you  " — and  the  girl  glanced  up  wistfully. 

"Well" — with  an  inquiring  smile. 

"  Heart's  Delight." 

"  Captain  Cuttle,"  said  Miss  Neale.  Then  she  bent 
and  kissed  her. 

"  Was  your  old  lady  glad  to  go  out  this  morning  ?  It 
was  so  delightful." 

"  Yes,  very."  Miss  Carew  was  pleased  by  the  inquiry. 
"  She  suffers  a  good  deal  with  the  rheumatism,  and  it  is 
only  now  and  then  she  feels  well  enough  to  venture  out. 
Her  own  daughter  is  dead,  and  she  lives  with  a  married 
granddaughter.  Since  the  war  they  have  been  in  strait- 
ened circumstances,  and  her  home  is  not  the  most  en- 
joyable. During  her  earlier  years  she  had  a  great  deal 
that  was  refined  and  delightful." 

"  Now  and  then  she  comes  to  the  House  Beautiful, " 
said  Dell,  glancing  up.  "  And  I  know  just  how  she 
feels." 

Miss  Carew  smiled  as  she  arranged  Dell's  pillows. 

"  Presently  I  am  going  to  have  my  Sunday-school 
class,"  she  said.  "The  little  negro  children  around 
come  in  and  say  a  lesson,  and  I  read  them  a  story. 
There  is  no  Mission  School  very  near.  You  have  a  very 
good  one  at  Sherburne." 

"  I  have  never  been  there.  I "  Then  Del! 

paused. 

"  I  suppose  Miss  Sherburne  considers  you  too  young 
to  take  an  interest  in  it.  Well,  all  that  will  come  by  ami 
by,  when  you  are  older." 

She  read  to  Dell  awhile,  then  there  was  a  shuffling  of 
feet  on  the  side  porch,  and  with  a  kiss  she  left  her.  Dell 
\vas  not  sleepy  ;  so  she  lay  wondering  if  she  could  fashion 
her  own  life  something  on  this  method,  as  she  grew  to 
womanhood.  Or  would  Miss  Sherburne  be  mistress  as 
lon£  as  she  lived  ? 


TOUCH  THAT  MAKES  THE  WORLD  AKIN.     279 

Mr.  Whittingham  entered.  She  raised  her  head,  and 
motioned  him  to  the  vacant  chair  beside  her. 

"  The  doctor  has  been  called  out  suddenly,"  he  an- 
nounced apologetically.  "  And— shall  I  disturb  you?" 

"  Xo,"  replied   Dell.     "And   I   am  very  glad  to  see 

you  alone.     There  is  something    I  ought  to  say " 

She  colored  and  hesitated. 

"'  I  came  out  to  Sherburne  the  day  after  I  brought  you 
home.  I  hoped  to  make  matters  a  little  smoother,  but  I 
am  afraid  I  failed."  How  could  he  tell  her  of  Miss 
Sherburne's  accusation?  Yet  he  felt  that  she  ought 
to  be  given  an  opportunity  to  explain. 

She  held  out  her  thin,  white  hand.  He  remembered 
how  dimpled  it  had  been  not  very  long  ago. 

"My  dear  child" — and  a  tender  expression  settled 
about  his  lips,  as  if  inviting  her  to  confidence. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  made  trouble  for  you,"  she  said,  with 
a  sort  of  beseeching  regret.  "I  ought  to  have  told 
you  about  the  money.  Wasn't  it  odd  that  I  never  men- 
tioned it  in  my  delirium  ?  " 

••'  Did  you  not?  "  wonderingly. 

"  No.  And  I  want  to  tell  you  just  how  and  where  I 
found  it,"  she  exclaimed  eagerly. 

Certainly  it  was  a  very  simple  little  incident.  She 
told  it  so  straightforwardly  that  he  could  not  doubt  her 
truth. 

"  Did  you  never  imagine  it  might  belong  to  Miss  Sher- 
burne ?  "  he  inquired  gently. 

-  I  did  not  consider  about  its  really  belonging  to  any 
ooe  when  no  inquiries  were  made.  And  I  know,  now, 
that  Miss  Sherburne  did  not  lose  it,  for  she  accused  me 
of  going  to  her  desk  and  taking  it  in  small  sums." 
Dell's  face  crimsoned,  and  her  voice  had  a  tremble  of 
suppressed  anger  in  it.  "  You  see,  if  she  had  lost  fifteen 
dollars  at  one  time  she  would  have  known  It  and  given 
notice.  And  it  was  dreadful  for  her  to  say  it !  I  think 


280  SllERBURNK  HOUSE. 

the  Murrays  would  tell  you  that  I  never  took  a  penny  in 
my  life.  And  when  one  has  always  been  honest — oh, 
you  do  believe  I  would  not  go  to  her  desk  or  drawers  ?  " 
she  cried  imploringly. 

"Yes,  I  believe  you — just  as  I  would  believe  Miss 
Neale,"  he  answered  gravely. 

1 '  Oh,  thank  you  a  thousand  times !  "  She  pressed 
his  hand  to  her  lips  with  a  mute  caress  that  touched  him 
inexpressibly.  ".  I  was  so  amazed  when  she  said  that, 
when  she  called  me  a  thief" — and  Dell  gave  way  to  a 
flood  of  tears. 

"My  dear  child,  do  not  cry  so" — and  he  glanced 
helplessly  about.  "  Your  argument  is  conclusive.  No 
one  would  lose  that  amount  without  making  an  inquiry. 
She  was  over-suspicious,  hasty." 

"And  I  wonder  if  you  can  help  me  find  the  owner? 
I  think  it  was  some  poor  person,  because  one  bill  was 
old  and  faded.  And  it  must  have  lain  out  there  in  the 
damp  some  time.  But  you  see  I  cannot  rest  now  until 
the  matter  is  explained.  I  cannot  be  considered  a  thief!  " 
she  cried  indignantly.  "  And  I  have  the  money  to  give 
back  to  the  owner.  Do  you  not  think  he  or  she  ought 
to  be  able  to  describe  it?  " 

"  You  have  a  shrewd,  sensible  head.  Yes,  I  will  think 
it  over  and  try  to  hit  upon  some  plan.  It  seems  rather 
confusing  just  now.  And  you  have  said  nothing  to  Miss 
Sherburne?" 

"No.  I  wouldn't,"  with  resentful  pride.  "I  suppose 
she  was  very  good  to  have  such  excellent  care  taken  of 
me  during  my  illness,  but  I  couldn't  talk  to  her  about  it. 
I  told  Cassy  and  begged  her  to  make  inquiries.  I  sup- 
pose I  ought  not  to  have  used  it." 

He  could  not  blame  her  in  her  present  weak  state. 
In  fact,  he  was  inclined  to  be  lenient  under  any  cir- 
cumstances. 

"We  shall  be  sure  to  learn,  somehow.      And  now  do 


TOUCH  TJI AT  MAKES  THE  WORLD  AKIN.     281 

not  distress  yourself.  I  am  glad  you  are  to  be  here  under 
the  doctor's  care.  Miss  Carew  would  charm  any  one 
back  to  health.  And  some  time  we  will  talk  the  subject 
over  again,  when  you  are  stronger." 

For  he  had  a  vague  idea  that  the  matter  ought  to  be 
set  in  its  true  light  to  her.  If  she  were  only  a  boy  !  But 
her  entreating  eyes  disarmed  him.  He  felt  that  she  had 
not  been  fairly  treated,  and  that  the  accusation  made  on 
such  slight  ground  was  cruelly  unjust.  He  had  not  seen 
Miss  Sherburne  since  that  unfortunate  day.  Mr.  Beau- 
manoir,  he  found,  inclined  strongly  to  the  belief  that  the 
money  belonged  to  Miss  Sherburne,  but  he  could  not 
think  Lyndell  had  deliberately  taken  it. 

Dell  had  been  studying  the  grave,  refined  face.  It 
seemed  to  her  she  saw  so  much  more  in  faces  than  she 
dreamed  of  three  months  ago. 

"  I  hope,  in  the  years  to  come,"  she  said,  in  a  soft,  al- 
most pleading  tone,  "  that  I  shall  not  disappoint  any  ideals 
or  plans  you  may  form  for  me.  When  I  get  well  I  am 
going  to  try  very  earnestly  to  study,  to  improve,  to  be 
like  " — no,  she  could  not  quite  pattern  after  Violet  Beau- 
manoir— "  to  be  what  the  future  mistress  of  Sherburne 
House  ought  to  be,"  she  continued,  with  slow  gravity. 
"  It  has  all  been  so  strange  to  me,  and  at  first  I  wanted 
to  throw  it  all  up  and  return  to  the  Murrays.  But  papa 
Murray  explained  a  good  many  things  this  last  time,  and 
I  understood  them  better.  You  know  I  had  been  an 
eager,  heedless  child,  and  now  I  am  going  on  to  woman- 
hood. I  don't  suppose  I  could  ever  be  like  Miss  Neale." 

"  All  characters  develop,  ripen  ;  she  is  the  most  beauti- 
ful and  gracious  pattern  a  young  girl  could  take,"  he 
said,  with  an  unusual  fervor. 

Certainly,  with  such  an  ideal  before  her,  she  could  not 
fail  of  reaching  some  of  the  finer  heights. 

"I  shall  be  out  again  to  see  you,"  he  said,  as  he  caught 
sight  of  the  doctor's  stalwart  figure  passing  the  window. 


2S:>  SHEBBURNE  HOUSE. 

They  were  to  indulge  in  a  little  ride  together.  The  doc- 
tor tried  to  save  Sunday  as  much  for  rest  and  refreshment 
as  he  could. 

Miss  Neale  came  in  to  say  good-bye  to  her  guest. 

"  I  suppose  I  couldn't  come  out  and  see  your  children  ?  " 
Dell  pleaded,  when  the  gentlemen  were  gone. 

"Why,  yes — if  you  feel  strong  enough" — and  Miss 
Neale  smiled.  "  Or  I  will  bring  them  in  here.  I  gen- 
erally do  for  their  last  bit  of  music." 

"  Oh,  do  let  them  come  in  !"  cried  Dell  eagerly.  "  I 
suppose  I  can  sit  up  in  an  easy-chair  ?  " 

"  Of  course." 

Dell  settled  herself.  The  little  throng  filed  in  rather 
bashfully.  They  were  all  sorts  and  sizes  and  colors,  but 
they  looked  extremely  picturesque,  and  were  scrubbed 
until  they  shone. 

Miss  Neale  had  been  reading  the  story  of  Joseph  and 
his  brethren.  Indeed,  it  had  been  given  them  as  their 
lesson  to  ponder  over  during  the  week,  and  now  Miss 
Neale  asked  one  of  the  largest  girls  to  tell  what  she 
remembered  of  it.  It  was  a  rather  blundering  version, 
yet  it  had  a  touch  of  simple  pathos  that  brought  the  tears 
to  Dell's  eyes.  When  she  halted  beyond  redemption,  a 
bright  little  boy  with  beady  eyes  and  a  soft  yellow  brown 
skin  held  up  his  hand  with  the  eager  exclamation — "  Let 
me,  Missus;  I  know  ;"  and  he  was  allowed  to  proceed. 
Some  one  corrected  him  when  he  failed.  There  were 
bright,  shrewd,  and  almost  laughable  comments,  but  in 
the  main  they  proved  their  interest,  and  a  fair  share  of 
memory.  Miss  Neale  endeavored  to  strengthen  the  moral 
points,  setting  the  treachery,  selfishness,  and  falsehood  of 
the  brethren  in  the  strongest  light,  contrasting  it  with  their 
after  experience  in  the  threatened  loss  of  Benjamin.  Dell 
listened  with  a  tender  interest.  Never  had  the  old  story 
appeared  so  beautiful. 

Then   Miss  Neale'  went   to  the   piano  and  played  the 


TOUCH  THAT  MAKES  THE  WORLD  AKIN.     2K* 

ever  beautiful  and  touching  "  Evening  Hymn."  The 
voices  were  not  very  well  trained,  but  some  were  remark- 
ably beautiful.  They  made  a  sort  of  awkward  decession, 
giving  an  imaginary  pull  to  their  forelocks,  which  were  of 
shortest  wool. 

"  Oh,"  said  Dell,  "  I  feel  as  if  I  had  been  to  adelight- 
ful  Sunday-school  myself.  How  good  you  are  to  take  so 
much  trouble  !  And  the  children  were  so  bright  and 
amusing.  I  have  seen  white  children  who  did  not  answer 
as  well." 

"  They  are  very  eager  to  learn,  and  the  sooner  we  de- 
velop their  intelligence  and  give  them  a  sense  of  personal 
responsibility,  the  quicker  we  shall  have  a  better  class  of 
laborers.  After  having  kept  them  in  ignorance  for  gen- 
erations, it  is  plainly  our  duty  to  make  some  amends.  You 
at  the  North  have  the  emigrants,  but  these  people  are  our 
very  own,  and  ought  to  be  a  solemn  charge  to  us.  There 
is  quite  a  large  Sunday-school  at  Sherburne." 

"Is  there?"  asked  Dell,  surprised.  Then,  with  a 
rising  flush,  she  said  :  "  Miss  Sherburne  requested  me  not 
to  go  to  the  quarters." 

"You  are  so  new  to  Southern  life,"  and  Miss  Neale 
smiled  but  made  no  further  comment,  as  she  sat  down 
to  the  piano  and  sang  several  beautiful  hymns  that  de- 
lighted Dell.  Then  the  doctor  came  in,  and  they  had 
supper. 

She  was  allowed  to  sit  up  a  little  while,  but  she  con- 
fessed to  a  feeling  of  fatigue,  so  he  carried  her  upstairs. 
It  had  been  such  a  happy  day  that  she  wanted  to  keep 
awake  and  think  it  over,  but  she  unconsciously  floated 
away  to  the  land  of  dreams. 

• '  Whittingham  was  quite  shocked  to  see  such  a  change, ' ' 
began  the  doctor  presently.  "  He  is  curiously  roused 
and  indignant,  and  hopes  we  shall  be  able  to  keep  her  here 
for  a  month  at  least.  I  fancy  Miss  Sherburne  has  not 
been  quite  fair,  although  she  is  ultra-conscientious  on 


284  SHERBUBNE  HOUSE. 

some  points.  Ah,  how  much  sooner  a  little  love  discerns 
the  right  path  than  the  most  strenuous  duty  !" 

"  It  is  a  pity  that  she  is  Lyndell  Sherburne.  It  will  be 
hard  getting  fitted  to  the  place.  She  is  such  an  ingrained 
democrat,  and  so  loyal  to  her  friends." 

"We  do  not  need  to  go  far  to  account  for  the  latter 
trait,"  and  the  doctor  gave  a  soft  little  laugh.  "  The 
Sherburnes  are  loyal  and  honorable  to  a  degree,  and 
poor  Ned  was — well,  rather  obstinate." 

• '  I  wonder  what  her  mother  was  like  ?  We  have  heard 
only  one  side  of  the  story.  It  will  make  the  position  rather 
sad  for  the  child ' 

"Oh,  there  are  some  papers,  Whittingham  has  them 
in  safe  keeping,  that  are  to  be  given  to  her  when  she 
is  fifteen  ;  letters  from  her  mother.  So  she  will  not  be 
left  in  ignorance.  Of  course  there  will  be  a  good  deal 
of  friction,  and  I  think,  with  him,  that  she  would  be  better 
off  in  some  good  school.  Still  there  can  be  no  thought  of 
that  this  side  of  Christmas.  She  must  get  thoroughly 
well.  She  ought  to  have  a  pony  and  no  end  of  outdoor 
exercise.  You  are  not  tired  of  her?"  and  he  gave  a  quick, 
whimsical  glance. 

"  I  like  her  very  much.  I  hope  to  make  a  lasting 
friendship.  And  she  is  extremely  grateful." 

"  Good,"  appended  the  doctor,  turning  to  his  book. 

Julius  stopped  the  next  morning  to  ask  about  Missy, 
and  announce  that  "  de  young  ladies  comin'  over  in  de 
afternoon  to  see  her." 

••  Oh,  dear  !  "  sighed  Dell. 

Miss  Neale  glanced  up  with  a  pleasant  look  of  in- 
quiry. 

"  Why  must  people  live  together  who  do  not  like  each 
other  ?  And  it  is  so  queer  to  think  of  them  all  as  rela- 
tives. Why,  they  are  my  aunts  and  cousins,  yet  I  seem 
quite  outside  of  them  all.  I  can't  get  it  straight  or  com- 
fortable in  my  mind.  It  is  my  home,  the  inheritance  of 


TOUCH  THAT  MAKES  THE  WORLD  AKIN.     28!> 

my  own  papa.  They  really  never  had  it,  yet  they  make 
me  feel  that  I  am  the  outsider.  And  then  I  wish  myself 
back  with  the  Murrays.  How  can  I  help  it  ?  " 

"  My  dear  child,"  Miss  Neale  stooped  and  kissed  her, 
"  there  are  so  many  intricate  points  that  one  cannot 
smooth  out  the  path  in  a  few  weeks.  The  Lepages  and 
the  Stanwoods  have  lived  so  much  at  Sherburne  ;  and  I 
must  say  they  have  been  a  very  united  family.  Your 
grandfather  was  unusually  fond  of  having  his  children 
around  him.  He  felt  your  father's  death  keenly.  I  am 
sorry  no  one  had  the  courage  to  attempt  to  heal  the 
breach  then,  but  they  were  under  the  mistaken  impres- 
sion that  Edward  Sherburne's  rights  ceased  with  his 
death,  or  that  a  son  only  could  inherit.  When  people 
want  to  believe  certain  things,  they  are  very  apt  to  shut 
their  eyes  to  all  opposing  points.  And  Leonard  Beau- 
manoir  is  such  a  fine  young  man,  so  great  a  favorite  with 
them  all,  that  it  certainly  was  a  bitter  disappointment 
when  they  found  that  he  must  positively  give  up  all 
hopes  of  being  master  at  Sherburne." 

"  I  do  not  like  him,"  Dell  said  decisively. 

"Ah,  then  you  have  seen  him?  " 

"Yes.  And  he  said  —  well,  I  cannot  remember  just 
the  words,  but  that  /had  crowded  him  out  of  Sherburne. 
and  that  I  ought  to — to  admire  him  for  giving  up  peace- 
ably and  not  making  a  fight." 

Miss  Carew  knew  the  subject  of  breaking  old  Mr. 
Sherburne's  will  had  been  considered.  Had  there  been 
the  slightest  loophole  it  would  have  been  pushed  im- 
mediately. But  they  were  not  a  family  to  make  a  useless 
scandal. 

"  If  I  could  have  helped  coming,"  continued  Dell,  in 
an  aggrieved  tone,  "  I  did  not  want  to.  But  papa  Mur- 
ray said  the  laws  of  the  land  were  higher  than  any  per- 
son's will  and  desires,  and  that  they  were  really  made 
to  protect  the  weak.  At  first  I  thought  I  could  give  it 


:•>«  SHERBUESE  HOUSE. 

back  to  them,  but  Mr.  Whittingham  told  me  papa's 
views  were  right  and  that  I  could  not  transfer  it.  And 
sometimes  my  heart  goes  up  with  a  great  bound  to  think 
the  beautiful  home  is  really  mine.  Only — if  they  must 
;ul  come  and  stay  as  they  like." 

Dell's  voice  trembled,  and  her  eyes  overflowed 

"  My  dear  child,"  and  Miss  Carew  held  the  throbbing 
form  close  in  her  arms,  "  there  may  be  some  wisdom  in 
this  discipline  that  you  cannot  see  now.  It  is  when  we 
bear  unjust  trials  with  grace  and  patience  that  God's 
love  is  made  manifest  in  us.  Those  that  we  bring  on 
ourselves  by  our  own  wrongdoing,  are  the  outcome  of 
a  simple  natural  law.  When  you  come  to  know  your 
cousins  well,  I  think  you  will  find  them  very  pleasant, 
agreeable  girls.  And  you  must  not  fret  about  this 
matter.  Your  duty  is  now  to  use  every  effort  toward  re- 
covery." 

"Perhaps  it  is  one  of  the  troubles  I  had  better  bury 
awhile.  It  may  shrivel.  The  doctor  told  me  of  that 
method." 

Miss  Neale  smiled.  Then  she  brought  in  the  two 
half-grown  Maltese  kittens,  whose  antics  so  amused  Dell 
that  she  laughed  light-heartedly.  Miss  Neale  found 
some  work  to  cut  and  make  ready  for  her  sewing  class 
of  freedwomen  ;  and  Dell  took  a  warm  interest  in  the 
small  incidents  of  their  lives.  Her  nature  was  intensely 
sympathetic  with  all  phases  of  want  and  sorrow. 

The  doctor  came  home  in  a  jolly  mood,  and  took  her 
i.nt  for  her  half-hour's  drive.  Then  there  was  dinner 
iind  her  siesta. 

Afterward  Miss  Neale  was  brushing  her  scanty  rings 
of  hair  when  she  reached  up  and  clasped  her  arms  about 
her  friend's  neck. 

••  Dear  Heart's  Delight,"  she  said,  in  a  soft,  coaxing 
tone,  "  will  you  promise  not  to  be  hurt  by  something  I 
think  I  ought  to  say  ?  " 


TOUCH  THAT  MAKES  THE  WORLD  AKIN.     88T 

"  I  do  not  believe  you  could  or  would  say  anything  to 
really  grieve  me,"  was  the  kindly  reply. 

"I  should  not  want  to.  It  is  this  "  —  Dell  hesitated 
and  colored.  "  I  feel  that  I  ought  to  put  on  the  blue 
flannel  dress.  I  can't  like  it  half  as  well  as  your  lovely 
gift,  and  1  look  horrid  in  it  ;  but  you  see,  I'd  outgrown 
the  summer  clothes  and  they  were  not  suitable.  Cassy 
hurried  to  make  me  that — and— I  can't  quite  explain — 

but  Miss  Sherburne  might  feel "  Dell's  voice 

quivered  suspiciously.  ••  It  really  was  not  her  fault  that 
I  had  nothing  else."  , 

Miss  Neale  gave  a  soft,  heartening  laugh. 

"My  dear  child,  I  have  been  perplexing  myself  on 
the  same  score,  and  wondering  if  I  could  make  you  un- 
derstand a  little  scruple  of  mine.  I  should  not  want 
Miss  Sherburne  to  consider  me  officious,  and  it  would 
break  the  pleasant  relations  the  doctor  desires  to  main- 
tain if  she  fancied  we  meant  in  any  way  to  prejudice  you 
against  her  wishes  and  plans.  When  you  come  to  make 
after  visits,  the  gown  will  be  here  for  you  to  slip  on. 
We  shall  keep  it  as  a  little  piece  of  you.  And  I  am  glad 
to  see  you  have  so  much  delicacy  for  another  person's 
feelings." 

"  She  bought  me  beautiful  clothes,"  said  Dell. 
"  She  would  not  take  any  of  the  things  I  had  in  New- 
York.  I  didn't  realize  until  I  went  back  how  expensive 
they  really  were.  I  suppose  I  ought  to  have  appreciated 
them,  but  I  didn't  feel  like  myself  in  the  strange  place. 
I  am  to  have  a  new  wardrobe.  And  it  is  so  sweet  of 
you  to  understand.  For  I  look  so  much  nicer  in  this." 

It  seemed  quite  heroic  to  Miss  Carew  that  any  girl 
should  be  willing  to  be  made  less  pretty  for  a  principle- 
that  few  would  have  recognized.  She  brought  the  blue 
gown  and  put  it  on,  then  she  found  a  fleecy  white  wrap- 
that  she  threw  carelessly  over  her  shoulders. 

"You  will  not  look  quite  so  ghostly,"  she  said  cheer- 


288  SHERBUBNE  HOUSE. 

fully.  She  pushed  her  chair  by  the  window,  but  out  of 
the  direct  light.  Then  she  stood  a  little  table  in  front  of 
her,  and  placed  on  it  a  great  bowl  of  flowers.  Thus  she 
was  accessible  only  on  one  side,  and  in  some  degree 
protected  from  glances  that  might  prove  embarrassing. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

• 

LOOKING  THROUGH  OTHER  EVES. 

A  CARRIAGE  load  of  bright  young  people  came  down 
the  street.  There  was  little  to  obstruct  the  vision  now, 
for  Doctor  Carew  had  widened  and  straightened  the  old 
road  to  suit  his  own  convenience.  He  was  in  the  office 
compounding  some  medicines,  but  went  out  gayly  to  re- 
ceive them,  and  marshalled  them  in  with  the  rather  jovial 
lack  of  ceremony  that  characterized  him. 

There  were  the  three  Beaumanoir  girls,  Ethel  and 
Alice  Lepage.  They  all  greeted  Miss  Carew,  then  Milli- 
cent  crossed  over  to  Dell  and  took  her  limp  hand. 

"  I  hope  you  are  improving,"  she  said,  in  a  bright  yet 
soft  tone.  "  Aunt  Sherburne  was  concerned  lest  the 
journey  here  would  prove  too  much,  and  we  were  glad 
to  hear  so  good  an  account  of  you.  And  you  must  get 
well  enough  to  enjoy  some  of  this  nice  weather." 

"The  doctor  takes  me  out,"  Dell  replied  stiffly. 

"And  auntie  wished  me  to  explain  to  you  that  you 
would  soon  have  some  appropriate  attire.  Mamma  did 
a  little  shopping  for  you  while  she  was  in  the  city,  and 
Cassy  and  a  seamstress  are  busy  at  work.  Can  you 
think  of  any  special  article?" 

Dell  colored,  and  somehow  her  eyes  fell  on  her  gown. 

"Cassy  is  making  you  some  pretty  wrappers,  one  a 
pink  flannel  with  soft  brown  tufts.  You  are  so  pale  that 
pink  will  be  a  cheerful  color,  and  I  thinjc  cheerfulness 
indispensable  to  an  invalid.  I  had  a  long  time  getting 
over  scarlet  fever  when  I  was  about  your  age.  And 
Doctor  Carew  was  so  good  to  me." 


290  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

"  He  is  good.  And  Miss  Neale  is  the  loveliest  of 
nurses.  One  ought  to  get  well  here."  Then  Dell  col- 
ored suddenly. 

"  I  am  glad  you  are  content  and — and  comfortable." 

Dell  glanced  out  of  the  window  at  two  little  darky 
boys  tumbling  over  each  other  in  their  anxiety  to  reach 
the  house  first.  She  felt  strangely  embarrassed.  There 
seemed  nothing  in  common  with  these  girls,  though  any- 
where else  she  would  have  liked  Millicent. 

Miss  Neale  was  keeping  up  a  bright  talk  with  the 
others,  and  the  doctor  was  teasing  Ethel  about  her  tour 
through  Germany,  giving  her  some  of  the  most  outlandish 
of  pronunciations.  Violet  was  explaining  a  proposed 
picnic  to  Kirton  Bluffs  on  a  nutting  expedition,  with  a 
dinner,  gypsy -fashion,  in  the  woods.  The  Floyds  and 
the  Masons  were  to  join  them,  and  Mrs.  Fanshawe  was 
to  go.  They  all  liked  her  so  much.  Aunt  Sherburne 
was  so  sorry  not  to  have  Dell  able  to  begin  her  studies. 

Little  fragments  floated  over  to  the  invalid.  They 
were  all  so  bright  and  merry,  so  assured,  so  at  home  on 
any  subject,  that  Dell  felt  weak  and  ignorant,  and  on 
the  very  outside  rim. 

Some  one  proposed  their  going,  and  they  all  rose. 
What  a  pretty  group  it  was  !  They  threw  careless  good- 
byes to  Dell,  who  scarcely  raised  her  eyes.  Frances 
hoped  she  would  soon  be  well  enough  to  come  home. 
Millicent  gave  her  hand  a  little  squeeze. 

The  doctor  went  out  and  put  the  girls  in  the  carriage. 

"  What  an  awful  stick  !  "  exclaimed  Ethel  as  soon  as 
they  had  started.  "  And  a  horrid  fright  as  well." 

"You  did  not  succeed  in  rousing  any  enthusiasm," 
Violet  declared,  with  a  rather  sharp  laugh  at  Millicent. 

"Aunt  Sherjjurne  is  right ;  she  is  only  about  half  civ- 
ilized." 

"  Then  we  must  try  to  civilize  her.  Have  you  ever 
considered  the  other  side,  girls  ?  "  asked  Millicent. 


LOOKING    THROUGH  OTHER  EYES.          291 

"  There  is  only  a  flat,  imponderable  surface,  length 
and  breadth  " — and  Ethel  giggled. 

11  You  must  remember  how  hard  it  has  been  for  her  to 
come  among  strangers,  where  everything  was  different, 
to  relinquish  her  old  friends  and  interests " 

"Friends!  That  is  good  !  A  pack  of  wild  heathens  ! 
Auntie  was  telling  mamma  how  she  first  came  upon 
them,  a  great  crowd  of  boys  and  girls,  old  women  and 
babies,  and  our  lovely  cousin  dancing  to  entertain  them. 
It  was  disgusting  !  And  I  should  imagine  her  about  as 
graceful  as  an  elephant." 

"  She  was  awful  fat  at  first,"  interpolated  Frances. 

"  Girls,  this  is  certainly  '  all  uncharitableness,'  if  not 
malice.  We  have  all  danced  out  of  doors  and  enjoyed 
it  wonderfully,"  said  Millicent,  with  rebuking  decision. 
"  She  is  our  cousin,  and  she  has  come  to  live  among  us. 
We  ought  to  make  her  welcome,  instead  of  feeling  that 
she  had  no  right  to  come.  She  could  not  help  it." 

"  Well,  we  can  t  help  feeling  that  she  has  no  real 
right!" 

••  You  forget  that,  being  Uncle  Edward's  daughter, 
she  had  every  right.  Great-grandpapa  left  Sherburne  to 
Uncle  Edward  ;  none  of  the  other  children  had  any 
claim  on  it.  Really,  we  are  her  guests.  That  is  the 
proper  way  to  look  at  it." 

••  Indeed.  Milly,  Aunt  Sherburne  has  some  rights  in 
the  estate,"  said  Violet,  with  dignity. 

"  Yes.  the  right  to  live  there,  and  now  she  manages 
the  estate,  yet  she  is  not  compelled  to  do  that.  But  it 
seems  to  me  that  we  have  all  sadly  forgotten  our  cour- 
tesy to  a  stranger,  who  has  been  brought  among  us  by 
no  wish  of  her  own." 

••  Well,  we  really  have  had  no  opportunity,"  retorted 
Ethel.  "  And  if  there  is  nothing  about  her  to  like  — 

"She  has  beautiful  eyes,"  said  Alice. 

••  So  far  she  has  not  commended  herself  very  strongly 


292  XHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

to  our  sympathies,"  remarked  Violet,  rather  crossly. 
"  She  has  made  Aunt  Sherburne  a  great  deal  of  trouble 
and  shown  herself  almost  ungovernable.  And  her  beiny; 
ill  was  mostly  her  own  fault.  Miss  Neale  will  cuddle 
her  up  and  spoil  her.  And  I  did  not  see  that  she  \\  ;is 
particularly  delighted  with  your  advances,  Millicent." 

"  We  must  all  remember  that  she  is  at  a  disadvantage 
everywhere,"  said  Millicent,  with  a  sweet  gravity.  "  We 
have  all  grown  up  together.  Sherburne  House  has  been 
like  a  second  home  to  us,  yet  I  dare  say  every  one  of  us 
has  had  some  moments  of  rebelling  at  Aunt  Aurelia's 
rule.  We  were  sure  of  her  love  to  begin  with.  But  if 
any  one  of  us  had  been  compelled  to  go  among  strangers, 
where  customs  were  different " 

"Why,  they  are  different  at  school,"  interposed 
Ethel.  "  And  when  one  is  traveling." 

"  Yes,  but  we  know  that  is  only  temporary.  We  have 
the  dear  home  people  to  love  and  to  write  to,  and  we 
can  confess  our  troubles  and  perplexities 

"You  do  not  mean  to  infer  that  Aunt  Aurelia  was 
wrong  in  not  allowing  her  to  keep  up  with  those  Mui- 
rays  !  "  cried  Violet,  in  amazement. 

"  I  am  not  going  to  blame  anybody,  or  discuss  Aunt 
Aurelia's  duties,"  returned  Millicent,  with  a  decision  that 
awed  the  flock  somewhat.  "  I  simply  mean  that  we 
ought  to  treat  her  as  we  would  like  to  be  treated  if  one 
of  us  was  Lyndell  Sherburne  coming  to  her  father's 
house.  Oh,  girls,  we  have  some  duties  toward  this 
stranger.  She  cannot  help  being  our  cousin.  And  out 
of  our  happy  lives  we  ought  to  make  her  glad,  rather 
than  sorry,  it  is  so." 

They  were  silent  some  minutes,  then  Ethel  began 
about  the  nutting  expedition.  Millicent  was  haunted  by 
the  pale,  sad  face  and  shrinking  manner  ;  in  fact  it  had 
given  her  some  twinges  of  conscience.  A  few  words 
dropped  by  Cassy  had  set  her  to  thinking.  She  was  the 


LOOKING    THROUGH  OTHER   EYES.          293 

eldest,  and  could  see  both  sides  of  the  matter.  If  Lyn- 
dell  longed  so  desperately  for  her  New  York  friends,  she 
must  be  capable  of  warm  affection.  And  it  seemed  hard 
when  one  thought  of  the  lonely  child  confined  to  lessons 
all  summer,  while  the  others  were  revelling  in  joyous 
freedom.  Even  if  she  were  untrustworthy,  some  effort 
of  kindliness  must  be  made  to  awake  a  longing  for  better 
tilings. 

After  the  visitors  had  left  the  room,  Lyndell  turned 
her  face  to  the  window,  trying  very  hard  to  repress  her 
tears,  but  the  stream  gathered  in  strength  and  over- 
flowed. It  was  a  pathetic  kind  of  crying.  The  doctor 
came  up  close  to  her  chair,  and  took  her  face  in  his 
hands,  which  were  plump  and  soft,  turning  it  gently 
around. 

"  My  little  pilgrim,"  he  said  tenderly,  "  are  you  not  on 
the  verge  of  the  Slough  of  Despond  ?  Come,  let  me  lift 
you  out  of  it,"  and  suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  he 
raised  her  in  his  arms,  seated  himself  in  her  place,  and 
drew  her  to  his  heart,  as  only  the  experience  of  father- 
hood can.  She  cried  softly  awhile  ;  the  shelter  touched 
her  inexpressibly.  Then  she  raised  her  head  a  trifle. 

"  I  am  a  very  April-showery  girl,  and — silly." 

"Weak  in  body  and  in  the  nerves.  And  I'll  venture 
that  six  months  ago  you  'never  cried  for — well,  I  can't 
quite  call  it  a  trifle,  either.  All  this  blooming  health  and 
strength  was  a  trying  contrast." 

"And  they  were  so  pretty" — a  long  sob  shook  her 
fragile  frame.  "  You  will  think  me  foolish — I  did  not 
use  to  mind  whether  I  was  pretty  or  not." 

"Well,  we  are  going  to  make  a  very  good-looking  girl 
of  you  presently,  and  you  must  help.  I  have  a  theory 
that  everybody  ought  to  be  made  pretty,  and  one  can't 
begin  too  soon." 

"Oh,  do  you  think  "—and  Dell's  eyes  were  full  of 
eager  light,  while  her  voice  quivered. 


294  SHERBUBNE  HOUSE. 

"  Randolph,"  said  his  sister  vvarningly.  She  still  kept 
to  the  fine  old  theories  that  goodness  must  be  placed  m 
the  front  rank,  and  beauty  served  at  the  second  tahto. 
But  she  had  always  been  pretty. 

"  I  think  we  ought  all  to  be  as  handsome  as  possible  ; 
and  we  should  be  willing  to  try  for  it,  just  as  we  try  for  ;i 
great  many  other  things.  We  all  like  it,"  and  hib  eye-, 
twinkled  humorously  at  Miss  Neale.  "But  first. .there 
can  be  no  real  beauty  without  good  health,  and  very  lit- 
tle without  a  good  temper.  Anger,  despondency,  Milki- 
ness,  and  all  the  passions  act  directly  on  the  heart,  the 
circulation,  and  derange  the  blood.  That  affects  the 
skin  and  the  brain,  and  unwholesome  thoughts  interfere 
with  digestion  pretty  nearly  as  much  as  an  unwholesome 
meal.  It  seems  very  easy  to  drop  into  a  scowl  when  you 
are  cross,  and  there  is  an  extremely  unpleasant  way  of 
shutting  one's  mouth.  There  are  sharp,  forbidding  faces 
that  never  draw  forth  friendly  responses ;  there  are 
voices  that  rasp  you  like  a  file,  and  you  do  shun  these 
people.  If  by  any  means  you  come  to  unearth  a  streak 
of  goodness  unexpectedly,  you  regret  the  many  faults  for 
which  you  have  to  apologize  continually.  These  un- 
pleasant qualities  do  not  ennoble  any  virtues,  and  you  al- 
ways think  how  the  virtues  would  shine  in  a  better  set- 
ting. We  should  laugh  at  a  jeweller  who  put  a  lovely 
diamond  in  a  clumsy  iron  ring.  He  might  say:  '  Of 
course  everybody  can  see  that  it  is  a  diamond ' — but  it  is 
really  undervaluing  the  gem." 

Lyndell  was  listening  with  eager  interest. 

"  I've  often  thought  about  the  ten  talents.  One  might 
have  been  beauty.  And  its  possessor  no  doubt  said — 
shrewd  man  that  he  was — '  I  must  turn  this  to  some  ;ic- 
count.  I  must  show  people  that  beauty  is  a  good  and 
pleasant  thing,  beside  being  pretty  to  look  at.  Rightly 
used,  it  will  give  me  influence  ;  it  will  bring  me  friends  ; 
it  will  enable  me  to  carrv  sunshine  to  homes  where  the 


LOOKING    THROUGH  OTHER  EYES.          295 

people  live  in  a  clouded  atmosphere  and  have  no  faith  in 
the  sweeter  graces  of  life.1  And  perhaps  with  his  one 
talent  of  beauty  he  gathered  in  many  more — various 
other  talents.  When  you  come  to  be  really  interested  in 
the  good  old  book  in  which  all  ages  will  find  some  of  the 
grandest  truths,  I  hope  this  will  linger  in  your  mind — 
'  No  man  liveth  unto  himself,  and  no  man  dieth  unto 
himself.'  Young  people  ought  to  study  it  out  early  in 
life.  You  can  make  a  truth  grand  and  noble  and  inspir- 
ing. You  can  also  make  it  so  disagreeable  that  people 
will  hate  it.  And  then  you  tell  or  act  a  lie  against  truth 
itself." 

Dell  crept  closer.  It  felt  so  good  to  be  cuddled  in 
great,  strong,  tender  arms.  And  she  wondered  a  little 
— had  she  been  making  truth  lovely  ?  She  was  quite 
sure  Miss  Sherburne  had  not. 

"But  my  text  was  beauty.  When  you  get  better,  I 
want  you  to  study  to  acquire  it.  You  must  keep  your- 
self in  good  health  by  plenty  of  fresh  air  and  exercise. 
You  must  learn  how  to  stand,  how  to  walk,  how  to  be 
gracious  and  kindly,  refined,  good-tempered,  truthful,  and 
honorable.  I  knew  of  some  one  who  had  a  great  swarrn 
of  bees  picked  out  of  the  Bible.  Their  honey  never 
failed.  They  were — '  Be  patient,  be  kindly  affectioned 
one  toward  another,'  and  dozens  more  of  them.  What 
a  sweet  world  it  would  be  if  everybody  kept  a  hive  !  " 

Dell  raised  her  head  and  gave  a  soft  little  laugh. 

••  Go  on,"  she  pleaded.     "  I  like  to  hear  you  talk." 

But  a  knock  at  the  door  interrupted  them. 

~  If  yeh  please,  Missus,  Lizzy  Jackson's  here,  an'  she 
wanter  see  Missy  Lyndell." 

••Send  her  in,"  exclaimed  the  doctor.  "  We  owe  her 
a  good  deal  for  past  favors." 

"  Didn't  I  think  she  was  Mamma  Murray  !  I  felt  so 
safe  when  she  was  there,"  confessed  Dell. 

Lizzy   carne  in  rather  diffidently.     She  shook  hands 


296  SHEBBURNE  HOUSE. 

with  the  doctor,  as  he  stretched  his  out  at  once  ;  greeted 
Miss  Carew  respectfully,  and  stared  at  Dell. 

"Oh,  Missy!  "  she  cried,  "I  heard  you  was  gettin' 
well " 

"So  she  is,"  declared  the  doctor,  "  so  she  is  !  And  I 
am  glad  you  know  your  duty  well  enough  to  come  an<> 
inquire  about  her." 

"  But  you's  mighty  pale  an'  thin.  Cassy  tol*  me  how 
the  good  doctor  car'y  you  off,  en  I  come." 

"Did  you  think  I  had  spirited  her  to  the  moon?" 
The  doctor  laughed,  with  a  mellow  sound.  "  I'm  not 
sure  about  the  climate.  I  hear  they've  burned  up  all 
their  fuel,  and  she  must  be  kept  good  and  warm,  so  some 
roses  will  blossom  on  her  cheeks  presently." 

"  She's  come  to  the  right  place.  En  I  hope  the 
good  Lawd'll  sen'  her  all  what  he  promis'  when  he  say 
dey  shan't  want  no  good  things  when  dey  waiten'  on 
him." 

"And  we  are  deeply  indebted  to  you,  Lizzy.  I  don't 
know  what  we  should  have  done  without  you.  It  was 
fortunate  that  she  took  to  you." 

"  It  was  when  you  sang,"  said  Dell,  in  a  dreamy  fash- 
ion. "  That  suggested  Mamma  Murray.  And  O  Lizzv. 
I  never  can  repay  you,  only  by  feeling  very  grateful. 
But  I  liked  you  so  much  the  day  you  gave  me  the  ber- 
ries. And  I  hope  some  time "  Then  Dell  sighed. 

If  she  had  some  money  of  her  very  own  to  buy  a  gift  for 
Lizzy  !  Perhaps  Mr.  Whittingham  would  do  it. 

After  Lizzy  had  answered  the  questions  and  comments, 
she  still  lingered,  twisting  up  the  corner  of  her  apron  as 
if  something  embarrassed  her. 

"Did  you  want  to  see  me  especially?"  asked  the 
doctor,  for  he  felt  the  real  errand  had  not  been  con- 
fessed. 

"Oh.no;  Marse  Doctor.  It  was  Miss  Dell."  She 
dropped  her  eyes  and  shuffled  her  feet  slightly.  Miss 


LOOKING    THROUGH  OTHER   EYES.          297 

Carew  left  the  room  on  some  errand.  Lizzy  came  closer 
to  Dell,  and  looked  at  her  with  deprecating  wistfulness. 
"  Please,  Miss  Dell,  Gassy  tol'  me  you  want  her  to— to 
'quire  'bout  losin'  somfin' " 

"Oh,  was  it  the  money,  Lizzy?"  Dell  smiled  joy- 
ously. 

"  Yes,  Missy,  beggin'  you's  pardon— Gassy  was  down 
to  de  cabin  las'  night.  Me  an'  my  ol'  man  was  settin' 
dere,  an'  he  say " 

Dell  sat  up  straight  and  turned  a  flushed  face  toward 
the  doctor.  "  It  was  about  some  money  I  found,"  she 
explained  eagerly.  "  I  told  Mr.  Whittingham  yesterday, 
and  I  wanted  to  ask  you " 

The  doctor  pressed  her  hand  as  a  check.  Then  he 
glanced  up  in  Lizzy's  face. 

"Why?"  he  inquired.  "Do  you  know  who  lost 
any  ?  " 

"My  ol'  man,  Marse  Doctor.  He  lose  fifteen  dollars 
one  ebenin',  comin'  'cross  de  plantation.  Miss  'Reely 
she  done  forbid  de  folks  crossin'  dat  er  way,  but  Homer, 
he  hurryin'  erlong  late  like,  an'  cut  'cross  fer  short.  He 
done  pull  out  his  'baccy  bag  wunst,  but  he  don*  "member 
nottin'  else.  When  he  git  home  dat  money  clean  gone. 
He  doan  say  nottin'  first,  but  jes'  sarch  an'  sarch.  Den 
he  go  over  to  Marse  Mason,  and  he  say  he  dead  sure  he 
pay  Homer,  'n*  he  giv'  him  two  tolerble  good  bills  en 
one  ol*  one.  He  hunt  all  roun',  en  go  back  en  furth,  en 
he  never  fin'  it.  Den  he  tell  Julius  he  giv'  a  dollar  fer 
any  one  findin'  it." 

"Oh,  it  must  be  his,  Lizzy.  I  am  so  glad,"  cried  Dell 
excitedly. 

•  •  Did— Missy— fin'  it?"  asked  Lizzy  hesitatingly. 

"Yes." 

"We  must  look  into  the  matter,"  interrupted  the 
doctor,  with  an  air  of  authority.  "  When  did  Homer 
lose  it  ?  " 


2JH  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

"  He  done  got  de  date,  Marse  Doctor.  Jes'  som- 
wher'  pass  de  middle  er  August.  Homer  doan  tell  no 
lies  'bout  hisself " 

"  And  you  found  it  —  "  looking  sharply  at  Dell. 

"  The  very  last  of  August,  just  before  Miss  Sherburne 
came  home.  And  if  I  had  known  — 

••  We  doan  go  up  to  de  big  house  much.  An'  Homer 
he  feel  queer  "bout  makin'  any  fuss.  Fer  ye  see 
'twould  jes'  set  de  hull  tribe  huntin',  an'  dere's  plenty 
who  say  '  findin's  is  keepin's,'  en  we'd  never  lite  on  it  no 
more.  But  ef  de  good  Lawd  jes'  let  it  go  safe  to  you's 
han's,  oh,  Missy,  we  kin  never  be  t'ankful  'nuff! 

Dell  colored  vividly.  Safe  in  her  hands.  Had  it 
been  so  entirely  safe?  A  curious  sense  of  responsibility 
thrilled  through  her. 

"  I  wish  you'd  send  Homer  over,  and  let  me  talk  to 
him.  I'm  a  little  in  the  dark  about  this.  But  if  it  is  all 
right,  Miss  Dell  will  hand  over  the  money.  It's  lucky  it 
fell  into  such  good  hands.  Are  you  going  right  back  ?  " 

"Yes,  Marse  Doctor.  I  come  ober  to  town  jes'  soon 
es  I  get  tru  washin'." 

"  And  walked,  of  course.  Well,  'Rius  must  drive  you 
back,  and  he  can  bring  Homer." 

"  Oh,  de  good  Lawd  bless  you,  Marse  Doctor  — 

Lizzy's  voice  broke.  Then  she  seized  both  of  Dell's 
hands  and  wrung  them  passionately.  Dell  gave  a  sob, 
but  uttered  no  word.  When  Lizzy  closed  the  door,  she 
hid  her  face  on  the  doctor's  broad  shoulder  and  was 
silent,  save  for  the  convulsive  tremors  that  shook  her 
now  and  then. 

"  Dell,"  he  said  with  soft  entreaty. 

"Oh,  doctor — maybe  Miss  Sherburne  is  right,  and  I'm 
wicked  above  everybody  !  I  want  to  tell  you — and  if 
you  think  it  right  to  send  me  back  — 

"There,  don't  worry  about  going  back.  And  don't 
cry.  You  will  get  all  nervous  and  knocked  up."  He 


LOOKING   THROUGH  OTHER  EYES.          2<M> 

wiped  her  eyes  and  smiled  cheerfully.  "Surely  finding 
a  sum  of  money  isn't  such  a  bad  thing  when  one  wants 
to  restore  it.  How  was  it  ?  " 

There  was  a  tremulous  huskiness  in  her  voice  as  she 
began,  starting  with  her  wild  dream  of  getting  away,  and 
the  five  dollars  Mr.  Whittingham  had  given  her.  "  And 
I  prayed  for  some  more  ;  "  she  cried  with  a  strange  fer- 
vor. "  I  didn't  really  suppose  it  would  come  before 
Christmas,  but  I  meant  to  pray  right  straight  on ;  and  I 
never  thought  about  there  being  any  wrong  in  it." 
Then  she  described  the  real  delight  of  the  week  without 
Miss  Sherburne,  and  the  evening  of  her  wonderful  luck  ; 
her  great  surprise  ;  her  waiting  for  inquiries  to  be  made 
about  the  money,  her  assurance  that  it  did  not  belong  to 
Miss  Hendricks  or  Miss  Sherburne  ;  that  Cassy  nor  any 
one  in  the  house  had  lost  it. 

"  I  never  thought  of  the  quarters,"  said  Dell.  "  I 
had  been  forbidden  to  go  there.  And  Miss  Sherburne 
seemed  to  think  none  of  them  told  the  truth,  and  that 
they  were  not  honest.  I  was  afraid  the  wrong  person 
would  claim  it." 

"  Stop  here  and  tell  me  what  the  money  was  like,  it 
you  can  remember,"  interposed  the  doctor.  "  We  must 
have  it  correctly  identified." 

"  It  was  as  Lizzy  said.  There  was  one  old  bill,  a  little 
worn,  with  ragged  edges,  and  two  good  ones,  but  they 
had  been  in  the  damp,  and  blown  about  in  that  queer 
little  whirl.  And  it  seemed  so  strange— just  as  if  my 
prayer  was  answered.  1  can't  understand  — 

"  There  are  a  good  many  puzzles,  child.  I  wonder 
what  you  would  have  done  if  you  had  been  home  with 
the  Murrays?"  and  the  doctor  glanced  curiously  down 
into  the  brown  eyes. 

"  Why  I  should  have  taken  it  to  mamma.  But  then  I 
shouldn't  have  wanted  anything—  She  paused, 

blushing  and  confused.  "I  knew  I  could  have  it  re- 


;}(K)  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

placed.  I  wanted  to  get  away  so  dreadfully  that  I 
did  not  think  of  anything  else.  Was  it  so  very,  very 
wrong  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  think  of  it  now  ?  "  he  asked,  with  tender 
gravity. 

••  I  suppose  it  wasn't  right,"  hesitatingly. 

"  Is  it  a  matter  of  supposition  ?  " 

There  was  a  great  struggle  in  Dell's  soul.  She  raised 
her  head  bravely.  Her  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 

"  No  ;  it  was  not  honest.  Papa  Murray  said  so,  and  he 
begged  me  to  try  at  once  to  find  the  owner.  But — I 
never  touched  a  penny  of  Miss  Sherburne's.  And  I  have 
all  the  money." 

Dell  gave  a  long,  quivering  sob. 

"  I  am  glad  you  are  a  girl.  I  do  not  suppose  there  will 
ever  come  a  temptation  of  this  kind  again  in  your  life. 
But  if  it  had  been  my  boy " 

"  Couldn't  you  forgive  him?  "  she  besought  piteously. 

"  Yes,  I  should  forgive  him.  Fathers  and  mothers 
always  do.  But  it  would  have  almost  broken  my  heart. 
*  Like  as  a  father  pitieth  his  children,'  and  if  the  Lord  had 
not  known  that  was  the  nearest  to  the  divine  love  he 
could  not  have  used  it.  But  I  should  always  wonder  if 
he  would  be  proof  against  temptation  in  the  future." 

"Oh,"  she  sobbed,  "you  will  not  like  me  any  more. 
And  I  was  beginning  to  feel  so  happy  here.  Maybe  Miss 
Sherburne  is  right,  and  I  am  a  miserable,  deceitful  little 
wretch:  But  I  never  was  until  I  came  here.  Oh,  if  I 
could  only  be  Dell  Murray  again." 

She  made  a  confused  and  desperate  effort  to  get  away. 
Her  heart  was  full  of  passionate  anguish. 

"  My  child,"  his  arms  gently  restrained  her.  "  Listen — 
you  must  not  cry  so,  or  I  shall  have  to  carry  you  to  bed 
at  once,  and  you  will  miss  seeing  Homer.  And  I  care  a 
great  deal  for  you.  I  am  glad  you  had  the  courage  to 
tell  me  the  story  in  such  a  straightforward  manner.  I 


LOOKING    THROUGH  OTHER  EYES.          301 

had  heard  the  most  of  it  from  Mr.  Whittingham and  I 

do  not  suppose  the  Murrays  really  approved  of  it."  There 
was  almost  a  smile  in  his  voice. 

"No,  they  didn't,"  admitted  Dell.  "But  they  were 
glad  to  see  me.  And  oh,  I  think  I  should  have  died  if  I 
hadn't  gone  somewhere  !  " 

"  It  has  been  a  sad  tangle,  and  I  am  very  glad  for 
Miss  Sherburne's  sake,  as  well  as  your  own,  that  it  is 
going  to  be  properly  cleared  up " 

"I'm  glad  the  money  belongs  to  some  one  else.  She 
must  have  known  it  was  not  hers !  "  Dell  said,  the  sense 
of  injury  still  rankling  in  her  soul  at  the  remembrance  of 
the  unjust  accusation. 

"  You  both  have  something  to  forgive.  My  poor  child, 
try  to  be  a  little  tranquil,  or  you  will  fall  seriously  ill 
again,  and  Miss  Sherburne  will  have  no  faith  in  my 
prescription  of  change." 

Miss  Neale  opened  the  door  gently. 

"  Sheba  has  supper  a  little  earlier  than  usual,  as  she 
wants  to  go  out.  Will  you  come?" 

•'  Yes.  First  I  am  going  to  give  my  little  girl  a  dose  of 
the  elixir  of  peace,  and  let  her  lie  quiet  here  on  the  sofa. 
Then  she  shall  have  a  bit  of  toast.  We  have  an  important 
case  on  hand  this  evening,  and  it  stands  us  in  hand  u> 
have  our  wits  sharpened." 

He  kissed  her  fondly  as  he  laid  her  down.  Her  arm* 
still  clung  to  his  neck. 

"  You  are  so  good,"  she  murmured  brokenly. 

"  I  want  to  be  good  enough  to  fill  papa  Murray's  place, 
here,  to  you.  My  poor  little  lamb,  you  need  a  friend 
sadly." 

He  prepared  a  composing  draught,  and  Dell  swallowed 
it  meekly. 

"Now,  take  a  little  nap  if  you  can.  Dismiss  all 
troubles  from  your  mind." 

He  touched  the  soft  hair  lightly,  almost  as  if  he  had 


SHERBURNE  HOt'SK. 

breathed  a  benediction  over  her.  The  throbbing  nerves 
-subsided  presently,  but  she  could  not  even  feel  sleepy. 
Many  thoughts  crowded  into  her  mind.  A  curious  con- 
>ciousness  that  she  had  never  experienced  before,  a  sense 
of  individual  responsibility,  the  sudden  enlightenment  of 
soul  that  comes  late  to  some  children;  indeed,  in  not  a 
lew  lives.  The  delightful  indifference  had  passed  for- 
ever. Yet  she  clung  to  the  departing  brightness,  as  if  the 
rest  of  her  days  must  pass  in  a  sort  of  semi-shade,  where 
the  very  sunshine  might  have  a  right  and  a  wrong.  For 
Oiity  does  not  always  put  on  her  golden  side  as  she  comes 
to  us  in  the  morning, 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE   DUTY   NEAREST. 

DOCTOR  CAREW  ate  his  supper  with  unusual  gravity. 
He  wished  this  trying  event  had  not  occurred  just  at  this 
juncture.  Dell  had  not  gained  enough  strength  to  cope 
with  it  successfully.  He  hated  to  have  her  nerves  50 
shaken  up.  There  were  various  aspects  of  the  case  that 
ought  to  be  settled  now,  once  for  all.  Yet  he  was  as  glad 
as  the  child  to  have  the  mystery  solved  in  this  creditable 
manner. 

Miss  Neale  glanced  anxiously  at  him,  and  suddenly  he 
intercepted  her  eyes. 

"  Lizzy  told  you,  doubtless.  There  is  no  question  in  my 
mind  as  to  the  real  ownership  of  the  money.  The  thing 
that  does  bother  me  is  the  conviction  that  it  would  be  un- 
wise to  get  it  all  settled  without  giving  notice  to  Miss 
Sherburne.  We  have  always  been  such  good  friends. 
And  for  the  sake  of  Dell's  future  friendship  with  us,  I 
should  hate  to  have  any  uncomfortable  feelings.  But  if  1 
went  to  her  I  should  lose  my  temper.  It  really  was 
monstrous  to  accuse  the  poor  child  with  no  better  cer- 
tainty than  she  had.  Dell  will  always  feel  this  keenly. 
If  Miss  Sherburne  loved  her,  it  would  not  be  hard  to  say 
she  was  mistaken.  But  she  will  not  condescend  that 
much.  It  would  be  cowardly  to  send  you  ;  it  would  be 
too  great  a  triumph  to  ask  Dell  to  write,  though  nothing 
would  suit  the  midget  better.  It  is  cruel  to  cut  her  off 
from  such  an  enjoyment!  "  and  he  gave  a  humorous  halfc 
smile. 

"  There  is  Mr.  Whittingham." 

303 


:i04  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

"True.  Thank  you,  Neale.  I  was  floundering  round 
in  a  hole.  Whittingham  is  the  very  one,  and  it  will  be  a 
secret  delight  to  him.  He  is  unusually  interested  in  the 
child.  And  Dell  will  take  that  reasonably.  To-morrow 
she  won't  be  fit  for  the  least  thing.  I'm  sorry  enough 
this  came  so  soon." 

"You  think  she  realizes" — tender  as  Miss  Neale 
was,  it  was  not  her  nature  to  make  compromises  with 
wrong. 

"She  has  never  had  much  thinking  to  do.  I  hate 
prigs  and  supersensitive  children  who  are  continually  on 
the  stool  of  repentance.  She'll  be  sorry  all  her  life  long, 
though  she  did  it  with  the  utmost  innocence.  She  went 
to  praying,  and  really,  she  is  not  the  first  one  who  has 
helped  to  answer  her  own  prayer."  He  smiled  a  little, 
with  a  dreamy  expression  in  his  eyes.  "  You  see  if  Miss 
Sherburne  had  shown  even  ordinary  kindness,  this  never 
could  have  happened.  Among  them  all  there  ought  to 
be  some  one  to  evince  a  little  affection  for  the  child. 
But  all  those  girls  have  taken  the  cue  from  their  elders." 

"  Millicent  made  a  very  earnest  endeavor  to  be 
friendly." 

"Yes,  I  saw  that.  And  Dell  almost  snubbed  her. 
But  then  Millicent  could  make  allowance." 

"  Ef  you  please,  Marse  Doctor,  Homer  Jackson's 
come." 

.  "Give  him  a  good  cup  of  tea,  Dinah.  I'll  see  him 
presently."  Then  the  doctor  looked  helplessly  at  Miss 
Neale.  "We  always  do  burn  our  fingers  with  other 
people's  chestnuts,"  he  said  ruefully.  "  Make  a  bit  of 
toast." 

He  returned  to  Dell.  She  was  lying  there  with  wide- 
open  eyes. 

"You  are  bad  at  minding."  He  shook  his  head 
slowly,  but  his  eyes  gleamed  with  amusement.  "  Will 
you  have  some  supper?  " 


THE  DUTY  NEAREST.  305 

"  No,"  she  answered. 

He  felt  her  pulse.  "You  must  eat  some  toast  Miss 
Neale  is  making,  or  you  will  mortally  offend  her. 
Homer  has  come  over.  We'll  hear  his  story,  and  then 
turn  him  over  to  Mr.  Whittingham  for  a  settlement." 

"  But  /  must  give  him  the  money " 

"My  dear,"  the  doctor  took  both  hands  in  his  own, 
"  I  am  going  to  ask  you  to  be  noble  enough  to  give  up 
this  gratification.  You  have  the  right,  of  course.  But 
to  count  out  Miss  Sherburne  so  utterly  will  only  widen 
the  breach.  It  can  never  be  talked  over,  but  will 
rankle  between  you,  and  if  you  mean  to  make  a  new 
beginning " 

Dell's  heart  swelled,  and  her  eyes  filled  as  she  com- 
pressed her  quivering  lips. 

"  Couldn't  you  do  it  to  please  me,  if  from  no  higher 
motive  ?  "  and  his  entreating  tone  touched  her. 

"  But  I  wanted  " — the  voice  was  full  of  pathos. 

"  We  will  have  Homer  come  in  and  state  his  side,  and 
you  shall  say  whatever  you  like.  And  believe  me,  some 
time  you  will  be  glad  that  you  turned  the  case  over  to 
Mr.  Whittingham.  No  one  can  say  Homer  took  the 
advantage  of  a  child,  or  that  the  proof  was  not  suffi- 
ciently convincing.  It  will  really  be  better  for  him 

Miss  Neale  came  in  with  the  toast  on  one  of  her  cen- 
tury-old china  plates.  She  bent  over  and  kissed  Dell 
with  a  tenderness  that  was  revivifying. 

The  child  crowded  down  a  few  mouthfuls  and  drank 
some  milk. 

"  Couldn't  I  sit  up?"  she  asked  weakly. 

"  Why,  of  course."  Then  the  doctor  settled  her  in  the 
great  splint  chair,  and  put  a  stool  for  her  feet. 

"  Now,  are  you  ready  ?  "  he  asked. 

Dell  nodded. 

Homer  came  in,  glancing  with  furtive  curiosity  at 
Dell,  as  he  nervously  fingered  his  old  wool  hat.  He 


306  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

was  a  tall  mulatto,  rather  thin  and  stooping  in  the 
shoulders,  looking  a  good  dozen  years  older  than  his 
age. 

"  This  is  Miss  Lyndell  Sherburne,"  said  the  doctor. 
"  She  found  a  sum  of  money  some  time  ago,  and  has 
been  waiting  to  hear  inquiries  made  about  it.  Then  she 
was  ill,  you  know.  So  she  set  Cassy  at  trying  to  find 
the  owner.  And  now  we  want  to  hear  your  story." 

"  You'se  berry  good,  Marse  Doctor."  He  bowed 
with  some  embarrassment.  "An"  de  young  Missy. 
Yes,  I  jes'  done  los'  fifteen  dollars,  squar'.  I  kin  'mem- 
ber jes'  how  dey  looked.  Ef  I  cud  see  it  I'd  tell  in  a 
minnit,"  his  face  brightening  with  a  certain  assurance. 

A  flush  mounted  to  the  very  edge  of  Dell's  brow. 
The  money  could  never  be  identified  in  that  manner. 

"Let's  hear  your  story  first,  Homer.  We'll  trust  a 
good  deal  to  your  word." 

"  Well,  Marse  Doctor,  'twar  August  twenty-six. 
Marse  Chawls  Mason  look  ober  de  books  en  git  dem 
riggers.  Der  was  tree  fibe  dollar  bills,  one  ole  en  ragged. 
I  tok  de  short  cut  tru  de  Pines,  en  as  I  struk  dem,  my 
pipe  done  gib  out.  I  clar  fergit  I  put  de  money  in  dat 
pocket,  'cause  turrer  one  had  busted  out  wid  some  nails. 
So  I  jes'  fill  my  pipe  an"  fin'  one  match,  den  I  come  on 
jes'  above  Sherbon'  House  en  cross  the  carri'ge  road,  en 
shuffle  on  ober  to  quarters.  My  little  gal  cut  her  han' 
pooty  bad,  en  I  nebber  min'  about  dat  ar  money  tell 
after  .supper,  en  I  cayn't  fin'  it  nowher'.  When  de  chil- 
len  go  to  bed  Lizzy  sweep  de  room,  en  we  hunt  and  hunt 
outside  en  in.  Den  I  "member  'bout  fillin'  my  pipe,  so 
nex'  mawnin'  yarly  I  goes  ober  all  de  way.  En  for  t'ree 
er  four  days  I  huntin'  all  my  spare  time,  en  cayn't  find 
hide  ner  hair  ob  dem.  Den  I  done  tell  Julius,  en  he 
hones'  as  de  law  en  de  gospel  bof.  En  he  say  he  keep 
sharp  lookout  fer  every  one  free  wid  deir  money  like  dey 
ain't  earned  it  hones'.  But  he  nebber  hear  no  'quirin'. 


THE  DUTY  NEAREST.  307 

En  we  bof  search,  but  we  nebber  fin'  dat  ar  money. 
'Twas  monst'ous  car'less,  Marse  Doctor,  en  like  lookin' 
ter  needle  in  stack  er  hay  !  I  done  tell  Marse  Chaw  Is 
'bout  it,  but  I  don'  say  much.  Der's  so  many  wuthless 
niggers  roun'.  En  dey  hab  sight  er  trouble  up  to  de  big 
house  wid  Missy  en  all.  Den  Lizzy  say  nebber  min'  so 
much  worryin'.  '  De  good  Lawd  he  gib  me  de  nussin' 
ob  Miss  Dell,  en  dat  make  it  straight.'  " 

Dell  was  crying  softly,  with  a  strange  thankfulness 
that  she  had  made  some  amends  by  her  very  illness. 

"  En  yuh  fin"  'em,  Missy,  so  Cassy  said.  Seems  like 
a  mir'cle.  I'se  payin'  fer  a  bit  er  groun',  en  dat  ar  sum 
seem  monst'ous  big  fer  a  pore  hard-wurkin'  darky  to 
lose.  Shorely  de  Lawd  will  bless  you,  Missy,  fer  keepin' 
it  safe,  en  yuh  sick  en  all!  En  I  hopes  I've  made  it 
plain,  Marse  Doctor.  Homer  Jackson  ain't  no  t'ievin'. 
lyin'  nigger." 

"  If  Miss  Lyndell  is  satisfied.  She  can  tell  you  where 
she  found  it.  The  description  of  the  bills  is  correct." 

11  It  was  just  at  the  edge  of  the  path  up  by  the  house, 
tangled  in  some  leaves.  The  wind  must  have  blown 
it  there.  And  I  know  it  must  be  yours,  for  no  one  in  the 
house  lost  any.  I'm  so  glad  to  find  the  owner." 

"Tank yuh,  Missy,  a  hundred  times."  Homer  made 
a  shuffling  bow.  "  Fer  yuh  kin  tell  Missy  dat  I  wouldn't 
'sturb  de  house  en  hunt  roun*  fer  somfin'  I  ain't  loss. 
I  jes'  'spected  some  of  dem  triflin'  niggers  fin*  it  en 
spend  it  fer  rum  en  frolickin'.  En  we  all  hope,  Missy, 
ynh'll  git  well  en  grow  up  'to  be  our  young  Mistis,  fer 
<!ough  we  ain't  slaves  any  more,  we  doan  fergit  all  deol' 
times.  But  yuh  look  mighty  slim  en  white,  en  Lizzy  she 
<  iy  jes'  a  mir'cle  yuh  pull  tru.  De  good  doctor,  he  jes' 
done  his  bes'." 

Dell  raised  her  head  and  tried  to  clear  her  throat  of 
the  sobs  that  would  swell  up  in  it. 

"  Mr.  Whittingham  will    give   you  the    money,"  she 


308  SHERBUBNE  HOUSE. 

said,  in  a  steady  tone.  "  And  I  shall  never  forget  that  I 
owe  my  life  to  Lizzy  and — Doctor  Carew." 

"  I'll  see  Whittingham  to-morrow,  Homer." 

The  man  worked  his  way  slowly  toward  the  door, 
pulling  at  his  old  hat,  and  reiterating  his  thankfulness 
and  his  best  wishes  for  Missy. 

She  leaned    her  head  down  on  the  doctor's  shoulder. 

"You  shall  do  just  as  you  think  best,"  she  said 
tremulously. 

"  I  think  it  best  for  you  to  go  to  bed  at  once,"  he  sub- 
joined, with  a  kind  of  gay  peremptoriness.  "I'll  carry 
you  up,  and  Miss  Neale  shall  come  and  soothe  your 
shaken  nerves.  All  the  rest  will  keep.  There'll  be  a 
new  day." 

She  made  no  objection.  He  gave  her  some  tender, 
fatherly  kisses  that  comforted  her  inmost  soul.  But  she 
was  desperately  tired.  It  seemed  an  effort  even  to 
breathe  as  she  lay  in  her  comfortable  cot,  and  though 
she  heard  the  tranquil  sound  of  Miss  Carew's  voice,  she 
could  not  follow  the  lines  or  even  remember  the  subject. 
Her  brain  was  in  a  tangle  concerning  the  money,  and 
her  nerves  in  a  worse  tangle  of  utter  fatigue.  Indeed, 
she  had  quite  a  restless  night,  and  the  doctor  felt  really 
anxious  the  next  morning. 

"There's  not  much  strength  to  go  upon  yet,"  lie 
said  to  his  sister.  "  I  do  not  believe  she  would  have 
recovered  up  at  Sherburne  House.  And  Neale,  we 
are  the  second  set  of  conspirators  to  keep  Len  Beau- 
nianoir  out  of  a  handsome  heritage.  Do  you  feel 
guilty?" 

She  smiled  faintly.     "  Whatever   is  God's  will 

"  His  will  is  that  we  shall  do  our  whole  duty,  not  half 
or  quarter  because  we  prefer  some  other  result.  I  think 
if  Dell  were  to  die,  Miss  Sherburne  would  absolutely 
fret  herself  into  the  grave,  going  over  all  the  things  she 
might  have  done.  It's  curious  what  an  amount  of  self- 


THE  DUTY  NEAREST.  309 

condemnation  really  good  people  can  have,  and  be  so 
unwilling  to  make  a  change  in  their  present  line  of  con- 
duct. Of  course  it  is  hard  all  around.  For  I  think  Dell 
would  have  been  quite  as  happy  growing  up  with  the 
Murrays.  Well,  we  must  trust  to  the  future  and  do  our 
best  in  the  present." 

Lyndell  slept  all  the  morning.  The  doctor  took  in 
Mr.  Whittingham,  who  was  very  glad  the  solution  of 
the  mystery  had  been  reached. 

"  For  various  reasons,  great  as  the  pleasure  would  be 
to  Lyndell  to  restore  the  money  with  her  own  hands,  I 
think  it  better  that  she  should  have  nothing  more  to  do 
with  it.  If  you  will  see  Miss  Sherburne  and  give  her 
the  option  of  examining  Homer,  and  pay  him  yourself, 
there  can  be  no  trouble  made  for  the  future.  It  is  not 
giving  the  child  any  authority  over  Miss  Sherburne's 
head." 

"  Yes,  yes,  you  are  quite  right.  And  I  see  it  will  be 
much  better  for  me  to  take  the  responsibility.  I'll 
ride  over  this  afternoon.  And  the  child  is  doing 
nicely  ?" 

"  Not  as  well  as  I  could  wish.  All  this  excitement 
has  been  bad.  But  it  had  to  get  settled  some  time." 

Late  in  the  afternoon  Mr.  Whittingham  made  his 
nppearance  at  Sherburne  House,  to  learn  that  the 
Jadies  were  out  driving,  but  expected  back  every  mo- 
ment. He  was  glad  of  the  opportunity  to  assure  Cassy 
that  there  was  no  doubt  of  the  money  belonging  to 
Homer. 

"If  you  please,  Mr.  Whittin'am,"  said  Cassy,  in  her 
soft-toned,  but  pleading  manner.  "  I'd  rather  you 
wouldn't  say  Miss  Dell  put  me  up  to  ask.  Miss  Sher- 
burne would  feel  as  if  I'd  interfered  some  way.  I've 
been  awful  careful  and  on  guard,  'cause  it  would  only 
'a'  made  trouble  and  not  helped  the  poor  child." 

"Yes,  I  understand,"  nodding  appreciatively. 


310  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

Miss  Sherburne  certainly  had  improved  with  the 
change.  A  delicate  pink  shadowed  her  cheeks  again, 
and  the  sharpness  had  vanished  from  her  features. 
A  little  of  it  crept  back  as  she  listened  to  his  story. 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  take  any  part  in  the  matter,"  she- 
said  haughtily.  "  If  you  are  convinced,  that  is  suffi- 
cient. The  money  does  not  belong  to  any  one  in  thi; 
house.  I  was  afraid  at  first  Lyndell  had  taken  it,  but 
my  accounts  show  no  deficiency,  and  I  wrote  to  inquire 
of  Miss  Hendricks.  The  simple  truth  at  first  would 
have  saved  much  trouble  ;  but  it  is  an  old  adage  that 
what  is  bred  in  the  bone  is  certain  to  find  a  way  out. 
I  hope  this  will  be  a  sufficient  lesson  to  the  child,  and 
that  some  time  she  will  come  to  appreciate  the  good  for- 
tune that  certainly  has  been  thrust  upon  her,  and  found 
her  every  way  unfitted  for  it." 

"Very  well,"  he  commented.  "Since  you  do  not 
care  to  question  Homer " 

"  I  wash  my  hands  of  the  whole  business." 

He  rose.  Her  invitation  to  remain  to  tea  was  lacking 
in  its  usual  hospitality  ;  but  he  had  no  desire  to  stay, 
since  he  wished  to  see  Homer  and  pay  over  the  money. 
He  felt  disappointed  at  Miss  Sherburne's  lofty  indiffer- 
ence ;  it  seemed  as  if  she  might  have  softened  toward 
Dell.  Homer  Jackson's  honesty  was  rarely  called  in 
question.  Of  course  it  was  something  for  her  to  admit 
that  she  had  not  lost  it. 

Indeed  it  did  not  seem  possible  now  to  Miss  Sher- 
burne that  she  had  made  this  terribly  unjust  accusation 
in  such  an  unreasonable  manner.  It  was  simply  what 
any  one  would  have  suspected.  Any  mother  would 
have  had  a  right  to  question  a  child.  Dell's  duty  was 
to  bring  her  the  sum  of  money  immediately  on  her 
return,  when  she  might  have  made  an  effort  to  find  the 
owner.  There  certainly  wax  concealment,  which  was 
the  first  step  toward  dishonesty.  On  the  whole,  Lyndell 


THE  DUTY  NEAREST.  ;m 

had  escaped  the   real  responsibility.     Her  journey  and 
her  temper  had  brought  about  the  illness. 

True,  there  were  certain  twinges  of  conscience  con- 
cerning the  days  she  had  kept  the  child  confined  to  her 
room.  She  even  hated  to  think  she  had  deprived  her  of 
her  regular  meals.  But  what  punishment  was  there  for 
such  a  great,  defiant  girl ! 

The  society  of  her  nieces  had  already  proved  an  ines- 
timable benefit  to  Miss  Sherburne.  It  had  relaxed  her 
strenuous  train  of  thought.  She  had  brooded  contin- 
ually over  Dell's  defects  since  the  first  unlucky  glance 
that  June  afternoon.  The  natural  antipathy  had  been 
intensified.  But  Mrs.  Lepage's  broader  ideas,  and  the 
certainty  that  this  was  Edward's  child,  the  philosophical 
acceptance  of  the  fact  by  the  others,  while  their  disap- 
pointment was  none  the  less  keen,  disposed  her  to  less 
bitter  thoughts.  There  was  the  pleasant  excitement  of 
friends  dropping  in,  the  gayety  and  confusion  of  the 
children  in  their  eager  deliglu,  where  before  had  reigned 
an  almost  unendurable  solitude  of  retrospect  and  disap- 
pointment. 

She  was  quite  relieved  that  Mr.  Whittingham  should 
settle  the  matter  in  his  own  way.  That  Dell  should  have 
had  a  voice  in  it,  or  relinquished  any  satisfaction,  did  not 
occur  to  her.  And  she  resolved  never  to  refer  to  it.  It 
u  ould  be  best  to  treat  the  whole  escapade  with  severe 
silence.  Lyndell  should  have  no  excuse  for  considering 
it  a  heroic  exploit. 

She  announced  to  her  nieces  the  conclusion.  Mrs. 
Beaumanoir  was  unfeignedly  glad,  and  the  Masons 
added  their  share  of  gratulation.  Homer  Jackson  was  a 
very  fair  carpenter,  and  in  much  demand  as  a  man  who 
could  be  depended  upon  better  than  the  average  of  his 
compeers. 

Mr.  Whittingham  came  over  to  the  doctor's  that  ever 
ing.     He  found  Dell  pale  and  languid,  with  great  rings 


i 


312  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

under  her  eyes.  She  smiled  gratefully  and  thanked  him 
for  his  kindness,  but  seemed  disinclined  for  any  special 
conversation. 

And  all  the  next  day  Miss  Neale  remarked  the  silence, 
and  surprised  tears  in  her  eyes  now  and  then.  She  was 
not  sullen  or  cold,  but  the  gladness  of  the  first  few  days 
seemed  to  have  vanished,  and  left  her  a  pitiful  little 
ghost.  She  laid  on  the  old  sofa  and  watched  the  kitten^ 
race  and  play,  but  there  was  an  absent  expression  in  her 
eyes.  She  listened  to  the  soft  voice  reading,  but  it  was 
with  a  dreamy  aspect,  as  though  the  soul  was  wander- 
ing in  some  other  land. 

It  was  lowering,  with  a  rather  high  wind  in  the  after- 
noon, so  there  could  be  no  thought  of  a  drive.  The 
doctor  was  over  in  the  next  town,  where  there  had  been 
a  railroad  accident.  Bedtime  came  before  he  returned. 

"  I  hope  you  are  not  homesick,"  Miss  Neale  said 
gently,  as  she  tucked  her  in  and  kissed  her. 

"  I  couldn't  be  homesick  for  anything  that — that  it 
was  right  for  me  to  have.  I've  gone  out  of  the  old 
world  where  everything  came  without  any  thought.  And 
now  I  have  to  think.  It  seems  as  if  I  was  so  old,  almost 
grown  up.  I  can't  get  fitted  into  the  new  life.  Some- 
thing jars  and  troubles  me." 

"  Can't  you  tell  me  ?" 

Dell  put  her  arms  about  Miss  Carew's  neck.  "  No," 
she  replied  slowly.  "There  isn't  enough  to  tell  any 
one.  It's  all  a  tangle.  I  wouldn't  know  where  to 
begin." 

"  Maybe  you'll  find  an  end  by  to-morrow.  Some- 
times it  takes  two  people  to  pick  out  a  skein  of  yarn, 
when  it  has  been  badly  reeled.  And  if  you  want  any 
help  you  need  not  go  far  for  it." 

"Thank  you,"  Lyndell  said  gravely. 

Miss  Carew  had  kindled  a  bit  of  fire  on  the  hearth. 
Dell  watched  the  fitful  blaze  and  the  soft  shadows  that 


THE  DUTY  NEAREST.  313 

seemed  playing  hide-and-seek  about  the  room.  She  was 
not  sleepy.  She  had  thought  until  her  brain  was  in  a 
state  of  restless  commotion,  until  she  was  like  one  grop- 
ing in  the  dark,  afraid  to  go  any  farther,  and  not  know- 
ing how  to  turn  back,  indeed  fearing  in  some  mysterious 
way  that  there  was  no  going  back.  Everything  was  so 
changed.  She  could  see  the  joyous,  thoughtless,  laugh- 
ing Dell  Murray,  quite  as  if  she  was  some  other  girl. 
And  the  strange  thing  about  it  was  that  loving  all  the 
Murrays  as  she  did,  she  didn't  really  want  to  go  back  and 
be  her  olden  self. 

For  somehow  she  had  a  vague  misgiving  that  the 
olden  self  was  not  quite  what  she  used  to  imagine.  She 
saw  so  many  things  that  made  her  flush,  with  her  face 
almost  buried  in  the  pillow.  When  she  first  came  to 
Sherburne,  indeed,  all  the  summer,  she  had  been  eager 
to  keep  the  old  individuality.  But  would  she  have  de- 
ceived and  tried  to  outwit  Mamma  Murray  ?  Then  she 
was  not  good.  She  had  not  been  good  at  all !  It  was  so 
keenly  humiliating. 

She  had  not  reasoned  enough  in  her  short  life  to 
separate  the  causes  from  the  acts.  She  was  over- 
whelmed, almost  angry,  to  think  Miss  Sherburne  had 
been  in  any  degree  right,  yet  her  extreme  honesty  for- 
bade the  glaring  injustice  of  believing  that  she  had 
always  suffered  innocently.  How  soon  she  had  begun 
to  deceive  !  She  saw  the  child  stealing  down  to  the 
library  —  true,  the  books  had  not  been  forbidden,  but 
she  knew  they  would  have  been,  or  kept  under  strict 
regulations,  if  she  had  asked.  She  had  secretly  gloried 
in  her  strategy.  She  had  thought  it  heroic  to  run  away. 
It  did  not  look  so  now.  Little  as  she  had  heeded  papa 
Murray's  tender  chiding  then,  it  all  came  back  to  her. 
She  could  see  the  softly  upbraiding  eyes  looking  into 
hers.  And  mamma,  who  had  always  been  so  good  to 
her  !  She  had  lowered  them  in  Miss  Sherburne's  esti- 


314  SHEBBURNE  HOUSE. 

mation  by  her  own  heedless  acts.  She  ought  to  have 
shown  the  honor  and  uprightness  of  their  training.  Ah, 
what  a  miserable  little  wretch  she  had  been  !  The  sense 
of  shame  brought  quick  tears  to  her  eyes,  the  pillow  was 
quite  wet  with  them.  Oh,  how  were  people  good  ami 
patient  and  noble,  even  when  things  went  wrong?  Why 
did  these  thoughts  come  to  trouble  her  when  she  was  so 
ill  and  forlorn  ?  Her  head  ached,  her  pulses  throbbed. 
Yet  through  all  the  distress  there  came  a  striving  for 
something  she  had  not  hitherto  known,  the  first  awaken- 
ing of  a  new  and  sacred  life,  in  her  rightful  place,  as  her 
father's  daughter.  Some  vague  impressions  of  her  own 
mother  seemed  to  awaken  new  desires  within  her,  the 
faint  reaching  out  of  seed  that  had  lain  buried  and  was 
now  pushing  itself  upward  to  God's  own  atmosphere. 

The  fire  died  down  presently.  The  soft  darkness 
folded  her  about  like  a  garment.  Would  God  hear  if 
she  called  to  him  ?  Oh,  for  what  should  she  pray  ?  For 
a  chance  to  begin  life  over  again  ?  Had  not  God  given 
her  that  when  he  kept  her  from  going  out  in  darkness. 
What  if  she  had  died  then  ?  She  shuddered  at  the 
thought.  She  did  not  want  to  die,  and  oh,  she  was  not 
good  enough  to  die.  Was  she  even  good  enough  to  stay 
here  with  the  doctor  and  Miss  Neale  ? 

Long  afterward,  it  seemed  as  if  it  must  be  almost 
morning — she  heard  wheels  crunching  slowly  around, 
and  a  cheerful  whinny  of  the  doctor's  horse  ;  presently 
his  voice,  with  some  earnest  inflections,  and  she  could 
fancy  Miss  Neale  answering. 

When  they  came  upstairs  she  heard  him  say  : 

"  The  best  thing  that  you  could  do.  A  good  night's 
sleep  will  do  more  for  her  than  medicine.  I  hope  she 
will  begin  to  improve  again  to-morrow,  now  that  she  has 
nothing  on  her  poor  little  conscience." 

When  Miss  Neale  came  in  she  was  snuggled  down 
in  the  bed,  and  kept  very,  very  still. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

PILGRIM    AT   THE  WICKET  GATE. 

WHEN  she  finally  fell  asleep  the  stronghold  of  seeming 
was  gone.  She  was  very  restless,  with  long,  irregular 
sighs,  broken  as  if  something  distressed  her.  She  was 
dreaming  over  fragments  of  that  secret  journey.  Miss 
Neale  rose  presently,  and  looked  at  her.  Her  pulse  was 
racing  along,  her  face  flushed  and  hot,  with  a  feverish 
inclination.  She  was  so  used  to  ministering,  she  was  al- 
most as  good  as  a  doctor  herself.  She  went  down- 
stairs, for  she  would  not  disturb  the  doctor,  and  fixed  a 
composing  draught,  with  a  touch  of  anti-febrile,  and  ad- 
ministered it  without  thoroughly  rousing  the  child. 

"  Poor  little  dear,"  she  said  softly  to  herself.  "  It  has 
been  a  rough  transplanting  to  an  unfriendly  soil.  Some 
one  ought  to  temper  the  sun  and  the  shade  to  her,  soften 
the  ground  by  gentle  touches,  and  set  her  to  growing 
rightly.  All  the  rest  of  her  life  will  be  made  or  marred 
by  it." 

She  was  sleeping  when  the  doctor  went  out  to  an  early 
call.  He  looked  in  upon  her.  She  was  pale  enough 
now,  her  skin  full  of  fine  blue  lines,  as  if  all  the  red 
blood  had  gone  out  of  them. 

She  was  so  grave  when  Miss  Neale  helped  her  dress 
and  gave  her  a  dainty  little  breakfast.  Then  she  sat  by 
the  window,  and  looked  out  on  the  rain  that  wrapped 
everything  about  with  a  grey  atmosphere,  lighter  or 
deeper  as  the  space  was  clear  or  the  shrubbery  thick. 
Miss  Neale  had  given  her  some  pretty  rose-colored 
worsted  to  crochet.  Sometimes  she  only  wound  it  idly 
315 


316  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

over  her  thin  fingers.  The  nails  she  saw  had  changed  a 
good  deal  under  Cassy's  care."  Really  it  wasn't  such  a 
very  bad  hand,  but  she  would  like  it  a  little  fatter. 

It  was  one  of  the  very  busy  days  for  Miss  Neale.  An 
old  lady  came  in,  dripping,  so  that  she  had  Sheba  hunt 
her  up  some  dry  clothes.  She  was  in  no  end  of  trouble 
about  her  daughter,  who  wanted  to  marry  a  shiftless,  in- 
temperate fellow,  and  go  North.  They  were  all  "  poor 
white  folks,"  and  there  seemed  nothing  for  the  daughter 
to  do  ;  but  the  marriage  was  most  ill-advised,  and  Miss 
Neale  finally  decided  the  girl  might  come  up  and  stay  a 
week  with  her,  and  do  some  sewing,  while  she  tried  to 
persuade  her  out  of  such  an  unfortunate  step.  Then  a 
young  negro  woman  whose  husband  had  deserted  her, 
and  left  her  with  the  care  of  twin  babies,  came  for  some 
sympathy  and  counsel.  Miss  Neale  sent  her  out  in  the 
kitchen  to  have  a  good  dinner  while  she  and  Dell  had 
theirs,  and  afterward  she  looked  up  some  clothing  and 
promised  to  use  her  best  endeavors  to  find  the  poor  thing 
something  to  do  that  would  give  her  a  home.  After  that 
one  or  two  more  interruptions,  and  Dell  was  left  much 
more  to  her  own  thoughts  than  Miss  Neale  liked. 

They  were  not  joyous  ones.  As  Miss  Neale  flitted  out 
and  in,  with  her  delicate  motions  that  never  jarred  or 
touched  or  whirled  anything  about  ;  the  pervading,  cling- 
ing grace  that  was  so  like  a  strain  of  music  ;  a  sweetness, 
the  scent  of  some  flowers  when  the  dew  was  falling,  or 
rather  a  commingling  of  it  ;  an  "  atmosphere  "  as  Dell 
came  to  know  afterward,  a  repose  that  really  quieted  one, 
it  was  so  free  from  stiffness,  so  little  suggestive  of  rules  ; 
a  harmonious  presence,  a  loss  of  something  when  she 
went — she  smiled  over  to  Dell ;  she  gave  her  a  gracious 
or  tender  word  ;  she  brought  a  handful  of  flowers  and 
laid  them  on  the  table  for  Dell  to  arrange.  Everything 
was  so  restful,  so  purely  comfortable,  that  Dell,  with  her 
newly  awakened  conscience,  was  beginning  to  feel  that 


PILGRIM  AT  THE    WICKET  GATE.  317 

she    had    no    right    to.  it  until  something  had  been  ex- 
piated. 

She  was  taking  this  under  some  semblance  that  pricked 
her  more  and  more. 

At  mid-afternoon  the  doctor  returned.  The  few  cases 
on  the  slate  were  of  no  real  importance.  The  clouds 
were  so  thick  now  that  it  was  almost  dark  enough  to  be 
night.  Dinah  made  him  a  good  cup  of  coffee.  He 
donned  dressing-gown  and  slippers  ;  entered  the  room 
where  the  forlorn  little  figure  seemed  to  have  dropped 
altogether,  collapsed.  But  the  big  brown  eyes  lighted, 
and  the  lip  gave  a  little  quiver  of  a  smile. 

"You've  had  a  long  day  mostly  by  yourself,  Miss 
Neale  tells  me,  and  it  hasn't  chirked  you  up  a  bit.  It's 
been  one  of  her  '  ministering  angel '  days,  I  call  them, 
when  the  wretched  and  the  forlorn  and  the  generally  in- 
efficient come  in  to  be  comforted  and  set  straight  about 
their  ways.  But  you  don't  look  as  if  any  one  had  com- 
forted you  much." 

He  pinched  her  cheek  with  a  gentle  touch. 

"  Do  you  want  to  go  back  to  Sherburne  House  ?  " 

"I'm  not  sure  but  I  ought,"  she  answered  slowly. 

"  What  now  ?  Do  you  want  to  get  back  to  the  brick- 
making  of  Egypt  ?  Isn't  the  manna  in  the  wilderness 
satisfactory  ?  ' ' 

Dell  winked  hard.  It  was  so  foolish  to  cry  over  every 
little  thing. 

"I'm  afraid— I  don't  just  deserve  the  manna,"  she  re- 
turned hesitatingly. 

"  Well,  these  poor  little  bird's  claws  don't  look  much 
like  making  brick.  And  I  am  afraid  dancing  and  feast- 
ing are  beyond  you.  They  are  indulging  in  that  at  Sher- 
burne House.  And  as  for  deserving  — 

He  stirred  the  fire  and  put  on  some  cedar  branches. 
Then  he  drew  up  the  big  chair,  gathered  Dell  in  his  arms, 
and  seated  himself  comfortably. 


318  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

"What  have  you  been  doing  all  day  ?  Not  eating  or 
sleeping,  Miss  Neale  tells  me." 

"I've  been  thinking,'-  she  made  answer  slowly.  "I 
•don't  believe  I  ever  knew  about  myself — till  now." 

"  You  will  go  on  all  your  life  making  discoveries,  my 
little  one,"  he  said  tenderly.  "  And  what  have  you  found 
out?  Clearly,  it  hasn't  been  exhilarating.  Perhaps  it 
would  be  better  to  wait  a  little 

"  I  can't,"  she  cried  decisively.  "  I  want  you  to  know 
— I  want  Miss  Neale  to  know  that — that  I  have  done  a 
great  many  bad  things  beside  running  away  !  And  it 
seems  dishonest  to  take  all  this  kindness,  and  have  you 
pity  me  and  care  for  me,  and  believe  the  best  of  me, 
when  I'm  not  half  as  good  as  I  used  to  be  ;  when  I  have 
grown  worse  ever  since  I  came  to  Sherburne  House.  I 
didn't  seem  to  understand  it  at  first.  I  feel  as  if  I  had 
been  dumb  and  blind  and  just  had  my  eyes  opened  — 

She  drew  a  long,  sobbing  breath,  and  thrust  back 
the  overflow  of  weeping  that  surged  up  like  a  great 
wave. 

"  My  dear  child."  Doctor  Carew  held  her  closer  in 
tender  pity.  "  You  are  weak  and  nervous  and  must  not 
excite  yourself  so.  When  you  have  understood  your- 
self, through  these  eyes  of  the  soul,  you  have  made  the 
greatest  discovery  human  beings  ever  achieve.  You 
can  walk  out  into  the  right  way,  in  the  light ;  and  though 
one  stumbles  often — we  all  do — but  with  one's  feet  set 
straight,  we  can  go  on  with  a  certain  confidence.  My 
little  pilgrim,  I  do  not  think  you  can  have  wandered 
very  far  astray  in  these  few  months.  Come,  you  shall 
tell  me  all  that  is  troubling  you." 

"  I  don't  know  where  to  begin,"  Dell  said  slowly.  "  I 
feel  somehow  as  if  I  had  tumbled  off  a  high  place  where 
I  felt  proud  and  safe,  and — kind  of  elated,  don't  you 
know,  as  if  no  one  could  get  me  away.  And  I've  just 
slipped  and  scrambled,  and  feel  bruised  and  torn,  and 


•       PILGRIM  AT  THE    WICKET  GATE.  319 

now  it  seems  as  if  I'd  never  had  any  real  right  up  there, 

and  was  ashamed  and  all " 

"The  great  hill  of  self-esteem—is  that  it?  Do  you 
know  the  old  line  : 

He  that  is  down  need  fear  no  fall. 

And  you  were  thinking  yourself  safe  beyond  a  peradven- 
ture,  but  the  wise  Man  said,  '  Let  him  that  thinketh  he 
standeth,  take  heed  lest  he  fall.'  And  you  were  not 
taking  heed  ?  " 

"  I  wasn't  thinking,  even  " — Dell  straightened  herself 
a  little,  as  if  to  catch  and  hold  clearly  the  threads  of  the 
past  that  looked  so  mysterious  to  her.  "You  know  at 
Mamma  Murray's  we  just  lived  straight  along.  We 
weren't  always  good."  She  made  a  long  pause.  "But 
I  suppose  I  was  used  to  all  the  ways,  and  when  I  came 
to  Sherburne  House  it  was  so  different.  There  wasn't 
anything  I  could  do.  There  wasn't  any  baby  to  tend, 
nor  errands,  nor  sweeping,  nor  making  the  garden  tidy, 
nor  playing  with  lots  of  children.  And  I  was  dressed  in 
Sunday  clothes  all  the  time.  And  I  had  to  walk  just  so. 
I  couldn't  run  or  jump  or  sing  or  make  any  kind  of  noise. 
And — "  he  could  feel  the  swelling  of  her  pulses  under  the 
rush  of  indignation — "  she  didn't  want  me  !  I  couldn't 
understand  at  first  why  I  hadto  stay  there  ;  I  don't  see 
now  why  they  didn't  leave  me  with  the  Murrays  until  I 
was  a  young  lady — it  would  have  been  easier  (or  them." 

"It  would  not  have  been  legally  right.  You'll  find, 
some  time,  that  a  good  conscience  obeys  the  strict  letter 
of  the  law,  even  if  something  else  looks  pleasanter.  It 
has  been  very  hard  for  you.  I  don't  wonder  you  stum- 
bled over  the  Hill  Difficulty  and  lost  the  way.  It  was 
so  different  from  Mrs.  Murray's  pleasant  garden. 
Well — "  inquiringly. 

"After  a  while  I  just  didn't  care,"  said  Dell,  with  a. 


320  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

•touch  of  the  old  independence.  "When  I  couldn't  do 
anything  right,  or  if  I  did  do  just  what  she  told  me,  she 
always  looked  as  if  she  wished  she  had  made  it  harder. 
And  I  hated  the  music  and  the  French,  and  being  shut 
up  !  " 

"  Yes,"  he  subjoined,  in  an  appreciative  tone. 

"And  I  did  things —  Her  face  dropped  down 

again  on  his  shoulder,  and  her  voice  had  a  great  tremble 
in  it.  "  They  were  deceitful  and  not  honest.  I'd  like  to 
tell  you — I  meant  to  tell  Miss  Neale,  but  she  seems  so 
white  and  beautiful,  as  if  knowing  the  badness  would 
hold  her  away  from  me." 

"No,  it  wouldn't,  my  dear  child  ;  never  imagine  that. 
But  I  am  father  confessor  to  the  whole  country.  I've 
heard  so  many  bad  things  that  your  little  sins  won't  look 
very  black.  Go  on." 

Hesitatingly  she  confessed  the  stolen  pleasures  that 
had  simply  seemed  a  child's  shrewdness  then,  the  in- 
alienable right  of  self-defence.  The  pauses,  the  faltering 
when  he  knew  tears  were  uppermost,  touched  him  inex- 
pressibly. He  could  see  how  these  experiences  had 
come  to  have  a  vitalizing  influence  upon  the  really  fine 
and  honest  substratum  of  her  nature.  Her  moral  intro- 
spection had  been  awakened,  and  the  inherited  virtues 
shaped  by  Densie  Murray's  generous  training  had  come 
to  the  top  again  ;  while  the  dross  would  float  off. 

"  My  dear  child,"  he  began,  "  I  am  not  going  to  say 
these  were  trifling  faults,  for  the  beginnings  of  all  sins 
and  moral  lapses  are  much  more  important  than  we  are 
apt  to  admit.  If  you  had  not  seen  them  yourself,  they 
might  have  become  such  sources  of  danger  as  to  color 
your  whole  future,  to  keep  you  from  attaining  any  really 
fine  height.  You  are  only  a  little  girl  as  yet,  but  you 
are  fashioning  the  future  mistress  of  Sherburne  House, 
who  will  have  a  great  deal  in  her  hands,  who  can  make 
herself  honored  and  beloved,  who  can  bring  back  pleas- 


PILGRIM  AT  THE    WICKET  GATE.  321 

ant  memories  of  her  father,  and  diffuse  an  atmosphere 
of  happiness  in  a  wide  circle.  So  you  see  it  is  time  you 
began  to  consider  the  sort  of  woman  you  desire  to  be. 
Not  that  you  are  to  outgrow  childhood  with  a  bound.  I 
hope  much  of  its  joyousness  will  remain  in  store  for 
you." 

Dell  crept  closer  into  the  shelter  of  the  friendly  arms 
that  were  so  protecting. 

"I  am  glad  you  know,"  she  said,  in  a  soft  tone. 
"  And  if  I  might  stay— till  I  get  real  strong " 

"  Stay — of  course— until  you  get  tired  of  us!  "  And 
he  laughed  with  the  warm,  mellow  music  like  the  sound 
of  bells  coming  through  sunshine. 

"  Not  till  I  get  tired  of  you — that  would  be  always. 
Oh — I  wish — you  and  Miss  Neale  had  been  at  Sher- 
burne  House."  And  her  voice  died  lingeringly,  as  if 
loth  to  let  the  wish  depart  into  impossibility.  "  Will  you 
tell  her— all?" 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  if  you  wish  it." 

"  I  don't  want  to  deceive  any  one  and  take  kindnesses 
and  affection — unworthily."  She  knew  by  the  gentle 
pressure  that  she  was  certain  of  love  here,  just  as  she 
was  with  papa  Murray.  "  And — it  has  troubled  me, 
since  I  came  to  think  it  all  over.  It's  so  quiet  here,  and 
— I  can't  explain — it  seems  to  make  you  go  softly  and 
slowly,  and  not  rage  around.  I've  had  a  very  bad  tem- 
per at  Sherburne  House.  I  never  did  before." 

"Was  the  quality  of  it  tried  before?  Perhaps  you 
didn't  know  much  about  it?" 

"If  you  think  we  children  always  did  just  what  we 
wanted  to,"  she  said,  recurring  to  the  Murrays,  "you 
are  quite  mistaken."  The  gravity  of  her  tone  kept  it. 
free  from  any  suggestion  of  pertness.  "  Sometimes,  when 
I  had  promised  the  boys  to  come  out  for  a  good  race,  I 
had  to  stay  in  and  sew.  But  it  was  good,  honest  sew- 
ing, something  that  was  needed,  not  a  bit  of  ruffling  that 


322  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

was  of  no  account,  or  trying  to  embroider  red  trees  and 
houses  on  a  towel,"  she  flung  out  with  disdain,  "and 
mamma  smiled  so  out  of  her  eyes,  and  kissed  you  with 
such  sweet  lips,-  that  if  you'd  felt  a  little  cross  at  first, 
you  were  all  sunshine  then,  and  ready  to  do  something 
else." 

"  I  didn't  mean  quite  that,  my  dear  child.  The  wise 
Man,  who  came  to  set  the  great  example,  told  his  fol- 
lowers that  the  Gentiles  had  enough  goodness  of  heart 
to  return  kindness  for  kindness,  love  for  love.  And 
he  asked  his  disciples  to  take  in  the  unthankful,  the  self- 
ish, the  oppressor,  and  even  the  evil-doer.  So  we  are 
not  to  measure  our  tempers  or  our  willingness  by  the 
ready  manner  we  oblige  those  we  love.  It  is  when  we 
do  «0/love  that  the  real  trial  comes." 

"  And  you  think  I  ought  to  have  been  just  as  good  at 
Sherburne  House." 

Dell  sat  up  very  straight,  indignant ;  her  pale  cheek 
showing  a  bright  scarlet  spot ;  her  eyes  flashing.  Truly 
her  illness  had  not  routed  the  old  Adamic  inheritance. 

"What  do  you  think,  my  dear?"  There  was  a  soft, 
almost  amused  expression  in  the  doctor's  face. 

"  I  couldn't — that's  all,"  she  cried  decisively. 

"  The  soul  of  the  little  girl  wasn't  changed.  She  was 
taken  out  of  the  pleasant  place  where  she  had  grown 
happy  and  joyous  and  gay,  because  the  great  Gardener 
said,  '  I  want  to  transplant  this  flower  to  a  different  soil, 
in  a  larger  place,  where  it  can  bud  and  blossom  and 
bear  an  abundance  of  rich,  delightful  fruit,  that  in  time 
will  comfort  and  sustain  weary,  troubled  souls  ;  and  have 
it  grow  so  that  the  birds  may  come  and  sing  in  its 
branches.'  And  so  for  days  it  is  kept  in  a  shady  place, 
it  is  pruned  and  trimmed,  and,  may  be,  left  in  solitude. 
And  what  if  it  resolved  not  to  grow — what  if  it  sent  out 
thorns  and  gnarled,  scrubby  shoots  ?  " 

The  spirit  of  defiance  had  gone  slowly  out  of  Dell's 


PILGRIM  AT  THE   WICKET  GATE.  323 

face.     This  was  a  part  of  the  work  she  had  not  been 
considering. 

"  So  you  see  the  Lord  put  you  in  the  new  place,  to 
show  what  sweetness  and  strength  you  had  gathered  in 
the  old  garden." 

"  And  I  didn't  have  any.  And  that's  the  way  they 
have  come  to  blame  Mamma  Murray  for  so  many 
things.  But  they  blamed  her  first.  Because  I  wasn't 
pretty,  and  my  hair  was  almost  red,  and  I  wasn't  grace- 
ful, and  did  not  know  French  or  music,  and  it  made  me 
angry  !  I  shall  always  be  grateful  that  the  Murrays 
didn't  put  me  in  a  home  or  an  asylum,  or  send  me  to  live 
out,  when  they  had  so  many  children  of  their  own." 

"They  were  very  noble  about  it.  It  is  one  of  the 
•deeds  I  hope  you  will  always  remember.  I  think  you 
haven't  quite  forgotten  the  lessons." 

Lyndell's  head  drooped,  and  the  poor  little  face  looked 
pathetic. 

"  We  older  and  wiser  folk  make  a  good  many  mis- 
takes. Our  writing  on  our  fellow-creatures  isn't  much 
like  the  clear,  beautiful  copy  set  us.  But  we  can  keep 
trying.  While  we  do  that  the  Good  Father  knows  our 
souls  are  not  quite  astray." 

"  I  haven't  tried  much — not  any,"  she  said  remorse- 
fully. "I  haven't  considered  the  little  things.  I  hated 
to  have  Miss  Sherburne  think  papa  Murray  broke  his 
word  about  the  letters.  I  never  supposed  it  was  wrong  " 
—Dell's  face  flushed  hotly—"  yes.  I  must  have  known 
it,  or  I  wouldn't  have  asked  Julius  to  take  it  secretly. 
And  they  knew  nothing  whatever  about  my  coming 
home.  But  I  suppose  she  will  never  believe  that.  And 
it  troubles  me  that  I  should  have  done  so  many  things 
that  must  lower  them  in  her  eyes.  Oh,  Doctor  Carew, 
what  shall  I  do  to  help  it  ? " 

"  My  child,  you  can  only  help  it  in  the  years  to  come. 
It  is  a  bitter  lesson,  but  we  cannot  learn  too  soon  that 


324  SHERBUBNE  HOUSE. 

every  wrong  act  causes  some  innocent  person  pain  and 
suffering.  It  is  not  simply  that  they  take  up  a  burthen 
for  us :  it  is  we  who  thrust  one  upon  them." 

Dell  leaned  her  head  down  on  the  friendly  shoulder 
again,  and  cried  softly.  It  was  so  much  worse  than  she 
had  thought.  Indeed,  until  she  came  here,  she  had 
thought  very  little  about  it  in  the  sense  of  real  responsi- 
bility. 

"Are  you  not  tired  of  so  much  talking?"  he  asked 
sympathetically.  "You  are  not  strong  yet — indeed,  I 
think  you  have  dropped  back  a  little." 

"All  these  things  worried  me.  And  I  was  disap- 
pointed in  myself.  Maybe  Miss  Sherburne  is  right,  and 
I  am  very  bad." 

"  But  God  gives  us  chances  to  start  afresh.  And  he 
made  this  great  break  with  a  wise  purpose.  I  think  you 
are  truly  sorry  and  that  when  you  begin  again  it  will  be 
with  a  new  endeavor.  He  is  always  ready  to  help  you. 
You  must  not  be  afraid  to  ask  him  for  strength  and  for 
the  right  understanding  of  duty  ;  for  assistance  in  all 
things." 

Dell  was  silent  many  minutes.  Then  she  said  in  a 
low,  awed  tone  :  "  I  prayed  about  the — money.  And  it 
came.  If  it  was  all  wrong " 

"  My  little  pilgrim,  you  will  find  that  a  great  many 
prayers  of  this  kind  seem  to  be  answered.  The  children 
of  Israel,  journeying  through  the  wilderness,  asked  for 
many  unwise  things,  to  their  great  sorrow.  Sometimes 
God  gives  us  our  own  way  just  to  show  us  how  wrong  it 
was,  when  nothing  else  perhaps  would  have  convinced 
us.  There  has  a  great  deal  been  said  and  written  on 
this  subject.  The  faith  of  ignorance  and  the  faith  of 
childhood  take  everything  direct  from  God,  and  it  is  a 
delightful  thing  to  see  God  so  clearly.  But  we  must 
look  on  the  other  side  before  we  are  sure  of  our  miracles. 
And  in  this  matter  what  would  have  been  right  at  the 


PILGRIM  AT  THE    WICKET  GATE.  325 

Murrays,  would  have  been  right  with  Miss  Sherburne. 
My  dear,"  as  Dell  gave  a  quick  sob,  "  this  is  one  of  the 
cases  where  you  must  let  the  dead  bury  their  dead. 
You  have  made  amends  to  the  best  of  your  ability  so 
far,  and  we  are  all  very  glad  the  money  has  gone  to 
its  rightful  owner.  Just  now  you  can  do  nothing  more, 
except  to  second  all  our  efforts  and  get  well  as  soon  as 
possible.  I  do  believe  I  should  like  to  see  a  bit  of  Dell 
Murray  as  she  was  before  the  fortune  came  to  her.  But 
you  have  talked  quite  enough  and  you  must  go  to  bed. 
I  hope  you  will  come  to  me  in  any  difficulty,  in  any 
trouble.  You  see,  but  for  all  this  episode,  I  should  not 
have  known  you  in  ever  so  long.  And  other  mercies 
may  work  out  of  the  evil,  in  God's  good  providence." 

He  kissed  her  very  fondly,  poor,  friendless  little  thing, 
with  a  thorny  path  before  her.  Would  she  be  brave 
enough  to  tread  it,  without  wrecking  the  noble  life  that 
might  be  evolved  ?  She  was  frank,  in  spite  of  that  curious 
reticence  so  like  obstinacy  ;  truthful,  really  honest  with 
her  own  soul,  and  that  augured  well  for  her  future. 

Sheba  came  in.  Miss  Neale  was  busy  with  some  of 
her  poor  parishioners.  The  doctor  carried  her  upstairs, 
and  Sheba  stayed  and  sang  one  of  her  wild,  pathetic 
hymns  with  a  throbbing,  musical  refrain. 

Dell  lay  there  thinking  over  many  things,  and  stirred 
by  a  strange  humility.  Verses  of  the  Psalms  and  gos- 
pels that  she  had  learned  as  punishments  in  the  summer, 
came  floating  back  to  her  with  meanings  she  had  failed 
utterly  to  see  then.  She  stretched  out  her  arms  to  that 
greater  Shepherd,  longing  to  be  taken  into  the  fold  Sheba 
had  been  singing  about. 

Long  afterward  she  heard  a  light  step. 

"  Miss  Neale,"  she  said  wistfully. 

Miss  Carew  came  and  bent  over  her  with  a  comforting 
smile.  Dell  clasped  her  arms  about  the  yielding  neck, 
and  the  lips  met  in  kisses  that  said  more  than  many  words. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

AS   YE    FORGIVE. 

THERE  was  coming  to  Lyndell  Sherburne,  from  vari- 
ous causes,  a  glimpse  of  spiritual  life  quite  new,  and  it 
touched  her  being  in  a  fragmentary  manner  ;  bringing 
alternations  of  buoyancy,  and  then  all  the  shades  of  de- 
spondency. Something  in  the  sweetness,  the  patience, 
the  tenderness,  and,  perhaps  more  than  all,  that  high, 
fair  beauty  that  occasionally  crowns  middle  life,  so  unlike 
that  of  glad,  volatile  youth,  roused  the  child  with  longing 
and  idealization  that  often  lift  up  a  young  soul  more  than 
efforts  strenuously  made  for  its  advancement. 

Miss  Neale  was  very  different  from  Mamma  Murray. 
That  little  woman's  life  had  been  circumscribed  by  ba- 
bies and  duties  that  had  widened  it  out  in  affection,  but 
not  in  mental  improvement.  She  was  proud  of  having 
her  children  educated.  They  would  be  smart  and  do 
well,  and  get  a  nice  bit  of  their  own.  The  handsome  rows 
of  houses  just  down  below,  the  ladies  driving  about  in 
their  carriages,  the  children  with  their  maids,  never  roused 
a  touch  of  jealousy.  She  was  happy  and  content  with 
her  work,  tender,  upright,  and  true,  and  knew  more  of 
what  went  to  the  making  of  healthy  bodies  than  nervous 
and  introspective  brains. 

In  this  exuberant,  almost  riotous  living,  Dell  had 
slipped  out  of  the  more  refined  modes  of  her  own  mother's 
training.  The  gladness  and  merriment  had  taken  com- 
plete possession  of  her  soul.  They  were  a  more  natural 
aliment  for  childhood.  But  protest  as  she  might  at  the 
strict  rule  of  Sherburne  House,  there  was  something  in  the 

326 


AS  YE  FORGIVE.  327 

spacious  rooms,  the  grand  old  furniture,  the  dignified 
serving,  the  troops  of  servants,  that  impressed  her.  Her 
few  days  at  the  Murrays  had  stamped  the  difference 
more  clearly  on  her  plastic  mind.  If  fortune  had 
brought  her  back  to  them  for  life,  her  affection  would 
soon  have  made  her  content,  but  she  perceived,  with  the 
larger  distinction  occasionally  vouchsafed,  that  her  future 
sphere  was  to  be  different. 

Yet  it  was  Miss  Carew  who  had  reawakened  the  slum- 
bering impression  of  her  mother  most  vividly.  The  gen- 
tle touch  of  the  hand,  the  soft  voice,  the  tender  solicitude, 
all  wanting  in  Miss  Sherburne,  the  habit  of  sitting  at  the 
piano  and  playing  plaintive  melodies,  sometimes  singing 
an  old-fashioned  ballad  as  day  deepened  into  twilight, 
touched  the  soul  of  the  child  inexpressibly.  The  four 
years  began  to  seem  like  something  foreign  grafted  in  her 
life. 

On  Saturday  Millicent  drove  over  with  a  package  of 
clothing  for  Dell.  Miss  Carew  was  busy  in  the  kitchen 
with  some  delicate  preparations. 

"  Go  through  into  the  other  room,  Milly— you  will  find 
her  there.  Viny,  take  Miss  Beaumanoir's  parcel." 

Viny  grinned,  showing  her  white  teeth  from  ear  to  ear, 
and  followed  Millicent.  Dell  looked  up,  then  flushed  in 
3.  sort  of  embarrassment.  She  was  trying  to  perfect  some 
pretty  embroidery  stitches  that  had  been  hateful  in  her 
sight  at  Sherburne  House. 

After  the  first  greetings  were  passed,  Millicent  began 
to  unfasten  the  bundle. 

"  Aunt  Aurelia  sent  over  several  garments  that  have 
been  finished,"  she  began.  "And  I  hope  you  will  not 
think  me  presuming,"  with  a  cordial  smile,  "because  I 
have  selected  and  partly  made  you  a  pretty  gown, 
thought  I  would  like  to  do  something  for  my  little  sick 
cousin.  And  I  chose  pink  because  you  were  so  very  pale. 
I  hope  you  will  not  dislike  the  color." 


328  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

She  threw  it  lightly  over  the  chair  beside  Dell.  It  was 
a  beautiful  pink  flannel  wrapper,  with  cuffs  and  collar  of 
soft  brown  velvet,  and  feather  stitching  done  in  the  same 
color.  A  long  velvet  ribbon  tied  it  at  the  neck,  and  there 
was  a  belt  of  the  same. 

From  some  inexplicable  feeling  Dell's  soul  rose  in  pro- 
test. She  hated  to  take  favors  from  any  of  her  new  rela- 
tions. Whatever  Miss  Sherburne  did  was  in  her  capacity 
as  guardian,  and  she  was  free  to  resign  her  position  any 
time.  The  money  spent  on  her  came  out  of  her  father's 
estate,  and  belonged  to  her.  She  wanted  to  be  quite  free 
to  like  them  or  not ;  to  go  on  disliking  was  in  her  secret 
heart. 

"It  is  lovely,"  she  said,  with  a  brief  intonation  that 
cutoff  any  feeling  of  enthusiasm.  "  You  took  a  great  deal 
of  trouble ' ' 

"  It  was  a  pleasure  to  me — I  wish  you  would  look  at  it 
in  that  light.  Cassy  did  the  machine  sewing,  and  she 
enjoyed  it  as  well.  I  was  spending  the  day  at  Sherburne 
House.  An  old  friend  has  come  with  her  two  daughters. 
She  used  to  visit  Sherburne  House  when  Aunt  Julia  and 
your  papa  were  young.  And  the  children  are  having  a 
merry  time." 

"  You  were  very  generous  to  think  of  me,"  Dell  said 
rather  stiffly,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  garment.  "Thank 
Cassy,  and — I  am  obliged  to  you." 

Dell  was  so  resolved  to  keep  on  the  far  outside  that  her 
air  and  tone  were  ungracious.  She  had  unwittingly  im- 
proved on  Miss  Sherburne's  training. 

Millicent  was  nonplussed.  She  had  come  with  a  peace 
offering,  not  doubting  but  she  should  find  a  way  to  her 
cousin's  heart.  Under  some  circumstances  she  could 
have  stepped  over  the  barrier  and  clasped  the  pale,  shrink- 
ing girl  in  her  arms,  but  she  knew  so  little  about  her,  and 
she  dreaded  to  be  repulsed.  While  she  was  hesitating  Miss 
Carew  entered,  and  a  glance  gave  her  the  key  to  the  situa- 


AS   YE  FORGIVE.  329 

tion.  She  could  almost  have  shaken  Dell  for  her  dis- 
trustful reserve. 

Milly  recovered  her  habitual  graciousness  at  once,  and 
began  a  bright  conversation  about  neighborhood  incidents 
and  the  expected  return  of  Major  and  Mrs.  Stanwood 
from  the  West.  Miss  Carew  would  fain  have  kept  her  to 
dinner,  but  she  had  some  errands  to  do  in  town. 

"  I  suppose  I  can  carry  back  the  cheering  message 
that  you  are  improving,"  said  Millicent,  looking  at  Dell 
with  gentle  beseechingness.  "  We  are  all  so  anxious  to 
have  you  get  well." 

Dell  was  obstinately  silent. 

"  The  week  has  been  so  unpleasant  she  has  not  been 
able  to  go  out  much,"  interposed  Miss  Carew.  "  We 
hope  she  will  improve  more  rapidly  by  and  by,  when  she 
gets  fairly  started." 

"  Oh,  there  is  the  doctor,"  cried  Millicent,  as  he  drove 
past.  "  I  must  see  him  a  moment.  Good-bye,  my  little 
cousin.  We  shall  all  visit  you  at  intervals — to  keep  you 
from  forgetting  us." 

She  kissed  the  almost  protesting  lips  and  gave  Miss 
Carew  a  graceful  adieu,  passing  out  quickly. 

"  What  a  beautiful  gown  !  Why,  it  quite  throws  mine 
in  the  shade  !  "  declared  Miss  Carew. 

"  1  like  yours  a  thousand  times  better,  dear  Miss 
Neale  !  I  wish  she  had  not  brought  it.  And  she— it 
is  her  gift.  I  don't  want  anything,  except  just  what  is 
bought  with  my  money  !  I  don't  want  them  to  be  — 

"  My  dear,  think  a  little."  Miss  Carew  stood  beside 
her,  and  drew  the  throbbing  brow  to  her  sympathetic 
heart.  "  Now,  you  are  surely  in  the  wrong.  It  is  their 
place  to  make  overtures.  It  would  have  been  in  the  first 
instance,  you  know  — 

"  That  is  just  the  reason,"  interrupted  Dell  vehemently  ; 
trying  very  hard  not  to  give  way  to  tears. 

"  Had  you  seen  Millicent  at  all,  before  you  were  ill? 


330  SHEBBUBNE  HOUSE. 

"Yes."  Dell  remembered  the  scene  only  too  well — 
her  interview  with  Leonard,  and  Millicent's  interposition  ; 
her  own  passionate  repulse. 

"  Was  she — "  Miss  Carew  sighed.  The  ground  was 
so  extremely  delicate  for  one  to  venture  upon. 

"  It  isn't  simply  her,"  cried  Dell,  with  a  misgiving  that 
she  could  not  quite  justify  herself.  "  It  is  all  of  them  ! 
They  do  not  like  me.  And  there  is  no  use  making  be- 
lieve— because  I  came  near  dying "  And  a  long, 

dry  sob  broke  Dell's  voice. 

"My  dear  child,  are  you  going  to  be  harder  than  the 
Saviour,  who  could  see  all  things,  and  always  knew 
where  the  blame  lay.  And  he  said — '  Love  your 
enemies.'  He  bade  us  pray  to  be  forgiven  as  we  for- 
gave. If  they  have  reconsidered  and  found  they  were 
in  the  wrong,  are  you  right  in  refusing  them  the 
opportunity  to  make  amends?  My  dear  little  Dell, 
consider " 

"  I  don't  care  about  their  making  amends.  I  know  I 
must  go  back  to  Sherburne  House  some  time,  and  I  want 
things  to  be — I  wish  they  would  let  me  alone  and  not 
pretend "  Then  Dell  began  to  sob  in  earnest. 

"You  do  not  want  them  to  repent?  My  child,"  and 
Miss  Carew  kissed  down  amid  the  straggling  furze  on 
Dell's  head,  "that  is  vindictiveness.  Now  you  are 
cruel !  You  are  much  less  generous  than  they.  One 
may  be  mistaken  in  one's  belief,  we  are  not  always  right 
beyond  a  peradventure,  and  when  one  learns  this  and 
wishes  to  make  amends,  the  Saviour  bids  us  receive  him. 
We  have  no  choice  if  we  desire  to  follow  the  great 
Exemplar.  For  he  cried  in  that  last  great  agony — 
'  Father,  forgive  them ' — when  they  had  not  even 
repented  ;  when,  like  St.  Paul,  they  thought  '  verily  they 
were  doing  right.'  My  dear  child,  I  cannot  allow  you 
to  begin  your  new  life  this  way.  You  do  not  realize 
what  you  are  saying.  You  do  not  remember  that  he  first 


AS  YE  FORGIVE.  331 

loved  us,  and  gave  himself  a  propitiation  for  our  sins. 
And  he  said  :     •  Do  this.     Follow  me.' " 

••  I  am  afraid  I  can  never  be  good— dear  Miss  Neale." 
And  Dell  pressed  the  soft  hands  to  her  hot,  throbbing 
cheeks  that  were  wet  with  tears. 

"You  were  loving  and  kindly  and  obedient  before, 
without  any  effort.  Now  you  must  try.  You  have  come 
to  the  real  things  of  life,  the  hard  things,  the  efforts  that 
are  to  shape  your  character  for  womanhood,  for  life,  for 
that  other  unseen  world.  And  it  isn't  all  done  in  a  day. 
That's  the  beauty  and  the  comfort  of  it.  We  stray  off 
into  byways,  as  Pilgrim  did,  and  some  sharp  knowledge 
convinces  us.  Or  maybe,  in  the  darkness  when  the  way 
is  tangled,  we  remember  that  sure,  straight  path  where 
the  light  shineth.  And  that  is  all  you  have  to  do,  to  go 
back  to  the  path  you  started  on,  and  all  will  be  well. 
There's  such  a  sure  foundation  that  you  can't  sink 
down,  although  your  steps  may  falter  a  little.  And  as 
you  go  on  you  will  come  to  see  the  way  clearer. 
There's  always  a  light  shining  out  for  any  poor  little 
lamb  astray." 

Dell  was  silent  awhile,  revolving  many  things  in  her 
mind,  and  a  little  shocked  by  her  outburst. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  at  length,  "  I  think  I  do  want  them  to 
repent,  and  truly  see  that  they  were  cold  and  cruel  at 
first,  and  hated  me  for  what  I  couldn't  help.  For  oh,  I 
didn't  want  to  come1  then,  and  Sherburne  House  wasn't 
half  the  paradise  Murray's  Row  seemed.  Leonard  might 
have  had  it  and  welcome.  And  when  they  can't  keep 
me  out  or  push  me  out— it  makes  me— yes,  it  does  make 
me  angry,  dear  Miss  Neale,  to  have  them  give  me  any- 
thing, as  if  they  were  buying  me  up  to  make  friends. 

"You  wanted  to  heap  coals  of  fire  on  their  heads?  " 
Miss  Neale  raised  the  face  and  smiled  down  in  it  witk 
motherly  tenderness.     "  My  dear,  you  will  have  many 
chances  to  do  this.     But  it  is  good  for  evil,  not  evil  for 


332  SHEBBURNE  HOUSE. 

evil.  You  are  too  young  to  look  at  the  case  from  their 
standpoint,  but  you  do  not  want  to  lay  up  repentance  for 
yourself  when  you  realize  there  has  been  another  side. 
Wait  patiently  until  you  can  see,  as  you  will  when  you 
grow  older.  There  are  many  mysteries  that  keep  unfold- 
ing as  we  go  on,  and  some  are  so  plain  that  we  wonder 
how  they  ever  came  to  be  a  mystery  at  all.  It  is  a  great 
deal  harder  to  be  just  than  it  is  to  be  generous,  and  this 
is  why  I  think  the  Lord  said  '  Deal  justly  and  love 
mercy.'  And  the  nearer  we  come  to  the  Golden  Rule, 
the  nearer  we  are  to  justice.  If  you  had  made  friendly 
overtures  to  any  of  your  cousins,  would  you  like  to  have 
them  repulsed?  What  if  you  felt. you  were  a  little  in  the 
wrong  and  proffered  it  as  an  olive  branch  ?  " 

Dell  drew  a  long  breath,  but  was  silent.  Her  con- 
science pricked  her.  She  had  been  cherishing  some 
high  and  fine  theories  as  to  how  she  would  demean  her- 
self in  the  future,  holding  severely  aloof  from  her  cousins 
until  they  were  quite  convinced  they  had  been  mistaken 
in  their  estimate  of  her.  It  looked  less  noble,  seen  in 
the  light  of  the  law  of  love.  And  had  she  not  resolved 
to  try  ? 

Miss  Neale  kissed  her  fondly.  Then  she  began  to  busy 
herself  about  household  matters.  Dell  wiped  her  eyes 
and  looked  out  of  the  window,  over  to  the  dense 
plantations  of  spruce  and  pine  that  were  glistening  in  the 
sunshine.  Still,  it  seemed  to  her  that  she  should  never 
enjoy  the  pretty  gown. 

Millicent,  meanwhile,  stepped  into  the  doctor's  office. 
He  had  returned  for  a  case  of  instruments,  having  a  slight 
operation  to  perform.  "  Hillo!  "  he  cried  cheerily.  Then 
he  noted  a  slight  shadow  on  the  fair  face. 

"  Is  all  right  at  Sherburne  House  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Yes,  I  have  been  in  to  see  Lyndell.  Do  you  think 
she  is  really  mending?  Aunt  Aurelia  feels  that  another 
week  must  be  the  limit  of  her  stay.  She  begged  me  to 


AS  YE  FORGIVE.  333 

sound  you  about  her  return,  but  I  can  only  ask  straight 

out  or  keep  silence.     And  Lyndell  didn'  t  seem  very 

Millicent  paused  with  a  slight  flush. 

"  Did  you  ask  her?  "      The  doctor  drew  his  brows. 

"  No,  I  came  to  headquarters,"  smilingly. 

"  Miss  Aurelia  is  worlds  better  off  without  her.  She 
needs  a  chance  to  get  out  of  the  treadmill  on  which  she 
has  been  going  for  the  past  year.  And  it  will  take  Dell  a 
long  while  to  get  her  nerves  steadied.  I'll  tell_y0«,  Miss 
Milly,  that  when  I  said  two  weeks  or  so  I  made  a 
Jesuitical  reservation  of  two  months.  She  isn't  strong 
enough  to  enjoy  the  fun  among  strangers  ;  she's  just  a 
bundle  of  prickly,  sensitive  nerves,  and  so  you  are  all 
better  apart  for  the  present.  Miss  Sherburne  needed  the 
change  as  much  as  the  child.  And  my  dear  Miss  Milly, 
if  you  can  put  in  a  word  now  and  then  for  the  furtherance 
of  my  project " 

"  You  are  sure  she  will  recover,"  Milly  cried,  with  a 
sudden  dread.  "  For,  although  Aunt  Aurelia  has  not 
really  come  to  loving  her,  I  do  not  think  she  could  stand 
the  other  shock.  ^' 

"  Nonsense.  She  will  be  well  and  hearty  again. 
Don't  prefigure  anything  so  dismal!  It  will  take  time. 
And  as  for  studying — when  she  can  stand  it,  I'll  train 
her  in  Latin  and  anything  else  she's  likely  to  forget. 
You  must  all  keep  Aunt  Aurelia  so  engrossed  that  she'll 
hardly  have  time  to  think  of  her.  And  you  must  come 
over  by  ones  and  twos  and  get  acquainted  with  your 
cousin,"  he  ended  smilingly. 

"  I  haven't  succeeded  very  well  in  that  respect,"  she 
rejoined  hesitatingly. 

"  Have  you  tried  ?  " 

"A  little.     But  she  seems  very 

knit  a  trifle  in  her  efforts  to  find  a  word  sufficiently 'ex- 
pressive and  yet  not  harsh.  >( 

••  Very  much  on  guard  ?    Is  that  what  you  mean  ? 


334  SHERBUBNE  HOUSE. 

"That  will  do.  And  I  suppose  we  really  cannot 
blame  her.  We  have  not  proffered  her  so  much  love 
that  she  can  take  us  on  trust.  Oh,  Doctor  Carew,  I 
am  afraid  we  all  began  wrong.  I  wasn't  home  at 
first. " 

"  We  should  be  in  a  bad  fix  if  nothing  could  ever  be 
righted,"  and  he  smiled  with  grave  sweetness.  "  But  it 
takes  time  for  a  great  many  things.  Some  great  writer 
said  once  the  reason  God's  patience  was  of  so  grand  a 
quality  was  because  he  had  all  eternity  to  work  in.  And 
though  we  have  only  this  little  life  on  this  side,  it  isn't 
best  to  hurry  the  work  in  human  souls  ;  especially  a 
child's  soul,  that  can  be  so  easily  marred." 

Millicent  put  out  her  hand.  "  I  shall  trust  you,"  she 
said.  "  I  think  you  have  read  her  more  truly  than  any 
one  else.  And  oh,  doctor,  I  am  so  glad  the  real  owner  of 
the  money  was  found.  You  were  quite  sure  — 

"  Whittingham  wasn't  very  likely  to  be  mistaken. 
And  the  money  Dell  found  exactly  answered  the  de- 
scription of  that  Mr.  Charles  Mason  paid  to  Jackson. 
Yes,  there  can  be  no  two  opinions  about  it." 

"When  you  see  anything  that  I  can  do  " — Millicent 
began  wistfully. 

"  Persuade  the  household  they  are  better  off  without 
Dell,"  and  he  laughed.  Then  he  handed  her  into  her 
phaeton. 

He  just  took  a  moment  to  look  in  at  Dell.  Something 
had  ruffled  her  evidently. 

"  Hillo  !  "  he  cried.  "  '  How  fine  we  are,  how  proud 
to  show  '— - — " 

Dell  made  a  great  effort.  "  That  is  a  gift  from — from 
my  Cousin  Millicent,"  she  said  in  a  certain  measured 
fashion  that  almost  made  the  doctor  smile. 
*  "  It's  as  sweet  as  she  is  herself."  He  took  it  delicately 
between  thumb  and  finger.  "Whittingham  and  Mrs. 
Kirby  are  coming  over  to  dine  to-morrow,  and  you  must 


AS   YE  FORGIVE.  335 

put  it  on  to  do  the  honors.  Neale,  I'm  going  over  to 
Craig's  Creek.  Two  of  the  workmen  in  the  factory  have 
been  mashed  up  in  fingers  or  toes  or  something.  Have 
dinner  without  me."  Then  he  kissed  Dell  and  was 
gone. 

It  was  so  very  lovely  that  Miss  Neale  took  Dell  out  for 
a  drive  after  dinner  while  the  sun  was  at  its  warmest. 
There  was  a  soft  reddish  haze  over  everything,  the  pre- 
cursor of  Indian  summer.  The  quiet,  the  balmy  air  full 
of  fragrance,  the  infrequent  songs  that  made  long,  al- 
most pathetic  vibrations  of  melody,  the  sombre  chirp  of 
the  crickets  and  the  rustling  of  the  leaves  in  the  wander- 
ing wind,  soothed  Dell's  perturbed  spirit  and  shaken 
nerves,  and  made  her  so  drowsy  that  after  she  came 
home  she  took  a  good  long  nap  on  the  old  sofa,  and  had 
a  really  delightful  evening. 

When  Miss  Neale  went  to  church  the  next  morning 
Dell  sat  down  to  have  a  little  communion  with  herself. 
She  had  been  rude  and  ungracious  to  Millicent.  She 
had  conscientiously  altered  one  sentence  in  her  prayer 
last  night  and  this  morning.  She  had  said,  "  forgive  us 
our  trespasses,  and  teach  us  to  forgive  those  who  tres- 
pass against  us."  For  it  seemed  terrible  to  pray  to  God 
to  mete  out  to  you  the  very  measure  you  were  meting 
out  to  others  when  your  heart  was  filled  with  bitterness 
against  them.  She  couldn't  dismiss  it  all  at  once.  But 
she  felt  strangely  humbled,  and  resolved  to  try  in  greater 
earnest  than  before. 

There  was  one  thing  she  could  do— put  on  Miss  Milli- 
cent's  pretty  gown.  She  did  not  want  to  at  all.  She 
would  like  to  pack  it  up  and  never  see  it  again.  But 
there  was  some  curious  conscientiousness  about  it. 
the  doctor  had  not  spoken  of  it !  She  knew  it  would  be 
a  victory  over  herself.  There  had  come  a  mental  aspi- 
ration after  the  right  way,  the  spiritual  grace,  the  strength 
that  would  guide  her  unwilling  feet— yes,  they  were  un- 


336  SHEBBURNE  HOUSE. 

willing.  She  wanted  to  be  noble  and  gracious  and  good, 
but  she  began  to  realize  that  it  was  no  easy  task  except 
in  moments  of  exaltation.,  She  thought  she  could  love 
God — but  if  she  could  not  love — those  she  had  seen — 
Yes,  it  was  very  hard.  It  seemed  to  her  that  none  of 
her  favorite  heroines  had  so  struggled.  She  buried  her 
face  in  her  hands  and  knelt  down  by  the  little  table  that 
held  a  bowl  of  flowers  and  her  Bible.  She  was  not  really 
conscious  of  praying  ;  it  was  one  of  those  wordless  cries, 
one  of  those  silent  beseechings.  When  she  rose  the 
contention  was  ended.  She  brushed  her  scanty  rings  of 
hair,  took  out  the  unwelcome  pink  gown  and  put  it  on  ; 
tied  the  ribbons  with  nicest  care.  It  gave  her  a  delicate 
and  refined  look.  She  studied  herself  for  moments, 
strenuously  keeping  back  some  tears.  For  she  felt  her 
dislike  of  Millicent  had  been  not  only  unreasonable  but 
unjust.  She  had  sinned  in  the  same  manner  but  with 
less  cause  than  Miss  Sherburne.  Let  her  not  forget  that. 

She  heard  some  voices  downstairs,  but  her  heart  beat 
so  that  she  had  no  courage  to  take  a  step.  There  was  a 
light  footfall,  a  soft  rustle,  and  Miss  Neale  looked  in. 

"  My  darling  child,"  she  exclaimed,  and  clasped  Dell 
in  her  arms,  kissing  the  tremulous  lips.  "  I  am  glad  you 
had  the  courage  to  do  this.  You  have  taken  one  step 
toward  that  better  purpose  of  love  and  good-will.  And 
you  look  very  pretty  ;  "  holding  her  off  a  little  and  smil- 
ing. "Millicent  always  displays  exquisite  taste." 

Dell  colored  with  contending  emotion,  and  tears  glis- 
tened in  her  brown  eyes. 

"They  are  all  downstairs."  Miss  Carew  laid  aside 
her  bonnet  and  mantle,  and  stretched  out  her  hand  to 
the  young  girl,  who  clung  shyly  to  her  as  they  entered 
the  room. 

Mr.  Whittingham  glanced  her  over  with  a  kind  of 
pleased  surprise,  and  introduced  his  sister.  Mrs.  Kirby 
was  a  delicate,  rather  pretty,  conventional  looking 


AS   YE  FORGIVE.  337 

woman,  but  Dell  felt  that  unassuming  glance  was  one 
of  inspection.  Her  pale  cheek  flushed  under  it,  and 
there  rushed  to  her  mind  the  consciousness  that  here 
perhaps  she  had  more  than  once  been  misrepresented. 
Yet  was  she  suffering  for  doing  well  or  ill  ? 

"Upon  my  word!"  exclaimed  the  doctor  delight- 
edly. 

Just  then  Sheba  announced  the  dinner,  and  it  was 
an  extremely  pleasant  meal.  But  the  greatest  solace 
to  Dell  was  the  approval  shining  in  Miss  Neale's  soft 
eyes. 

"Really,"  began  Mrs.  Kirby,  as  they  were  driving: 
home,  "  I  don't  see  anything  so  dreadful  about  that 
child  !  I  call  her  rather  diffident  than  forward.  Her 
manners  are  pretty,  too ;  and  she  seems  quite  well 
informed.  Very  few  children  would  remember  as  much 
as  she  did  about  Baltimore.  I  found  her  very  enter- 
taining. I  couldn't  make  the  daring  and  defiant  being 
out  of  the  pale  little  thing,  and  I  do  not  see  how  she  had 
the  courage  to  take  that  awful  journey  !  Of  course,  it 
was  a  great  pity  tha.t  Edward  should  marry  in  that  fash- 
ion, but  it  does  seem  now  as  if  the  Sherburnes  ought  to 
make  the  best  of  it,  and  of  her." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

A  RED  LETTER  DAY. 

IT  often  seemed  to  Lyndell  Sherburne,  as  the  years 
went  on,  that  her  real  life  dated  from  this  period.  But 
if  the  ground  had  not  been  prepared,  the  seed  might 
have  fallen  useless,  or  sprung  up  and  withered.  So 
many  processes  go  on  unnoticed  until  the  one  vital  touch 
fructifies,  culminates. 

Dell  went  out  nearly  every  day  with  the  doctor.  A 
friend  of  her  mother's  and  of  her  own  early  girlhood 
had  come  to  pay  Miss  Neale  a  visit,  a  rather  delicate  but 
charming  old  lady,  past  seventy,  and  Miss  Neale  was 
much  occupied  with  driving  her  out  for  numerous  calls, 
and  entertaining  guests  who  came  to  meet  her.  It  was  not 
a  bad  thing  for  Dell  that  she  should  be  seen  occasionally. 
Miss  Sherburne  would  have  been  quite  horrified.  She 
had  so  exaggerated  Dell's  personal  and  mental  defects 
that  she  would  not  have  considered  her  presentable  in 
any  case. 

So  she  shared  the  doctor's  comfortable  old  buggy 
and  soon  learned  to  manage  Betty,  if  his  absence  was 
prolonged,  and  drive  her  with  no  little  skill.  The 
doctor's  practice  spread  over  a  large  area.  A  younger 
practitioner  had  come  into  Ardmore,  and  proved  a 
great  relief  to  the  elder,  who  liked  now  to  take  matters 
leisurely. 

Ardmore  was  an  old  town  with  an  extremely  rural 
aspect.  Gardens  that  were  almost  farms,  little  settle- 
ments of  poor  whites  that  were  not  much  improvement 
on  the  negro  quarters.  Some  northern  capital  had  come 

338 


A  RED  LETTER  DAY.  339 

in  since  the  war,  and  started  a  few  industries  ;  a  few 
adventurous  people  charmed  by  the  climate,  the  com- 
parative cheapness  of  land,  the  ease  with  which  crops 
could  be  raised,  had  cast  in  their  lots  and  their  money, 
and  finding  themselves  fixtures  were  doing  their  best  to 
infuse  a  little  energy  and  thrift  among  the  natives. 

This  had  brought  about  a  line  of  demarcation.  The 
southern  part,  stretching  out  to  the  old  estates  and  proud 
inheritances  devastated  by  the  war,  kept  to  itself.  The 
other  might  have  the  railroads  and  the  factories,  the 
shops  and  stores.  Still  it  was  pretty  and  picturesque, 
but  so  different  from  anything  Dell  had  ever  seen  that 
she  was  delighted  to  go  meandering  through  its  limits. 

Then  there  were  the  boundless  wilds  that  surprised 
her.  Miles  and  miles  of  forests,  here  and  there  a  great 
residence  not  unlike  Sherburne  House,  with  its  wide 
approaches  lined  with  massive  trees,  its  neglected  plan- 
tations, its  clustering  "quarters";  single  cabins  of 
rough  logs  hidden  away  in  some  dell,  tiny  creeks  wind- 
ing in  and  out,  threading  their  way  to  some  tranquil 
river  and  from  thence  to  the  beautiful  bay  she  had  never 
seen.  Wonderful  coloring  from  the  great  brown  trees 
that  stood  alone  in  a  glory  of  copper-bronze  to  the 
groups  and  masses  whose  blue  or  purple  green  defied 
the  wintry  blast. 

She  learned  to  know  the  names  and  distinguishing 
marks  of  these  denizens  of  the  forest.  They  found  late 
wild  flowers,  luscious  grapes  that  ripened  unseen,  nooks 
and  crannies  of  such  beauty  that  Lyndell  sat  speechless 
or  just  raised  her  absorbed  eyes  to  the  doctor.  Squirrels 
ran  about  unheeded,  a  trail  of  wild  turkeys  crossed  some 
small  open,  staring  at  them  with  frightened  eyes.  Flocks 
of  birds  on  their  pilgrimages,  with  their  curious  calls  of 
alarm  or  impelling  cries,  and  occasionally  such  a  burst 
of  melody  that  the  child  sat  spellbound. 

How  beautiful  the  world  was  !     What  a  bliss  it  was  to 


340  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

live  !  Every  pulse  within  her  thrilled  to  an  ecstasy. 
Strange  new  thoughts  crowded  her  brain,  hopes  for 
which  there  were  no  words,  whose  stories  could  not 
be  told  until  the  hour  of  unfolding.  She  did  not 
know  herself  any  more.  She  was  so  different  from  all 
the  past.  Her  limited  knowledge  was  as  yet  unaware 
that  this  was  the  growing  out  of  childhood,  and  the 
entering  in  at  the  marvelous  doorway  of  girlhood 
through  whose  paths  she  was  to  be  led  up  to  those 
higher  realms,  a  sweet  and  noble  womanhood. 

Twice  that  week  the  girls  from  Sherburne  House 
came  over,  once  accompanied  by  Mrs.  Fanshawe,  but 
both  times  they  missed  Lyndell.  Doctor  Carew  kept 
delaying  his  duty  call,  but  early  the  following  week  he 
felt  it  could  be  put  off  no  longer,  as  the  first  limit  of 
Lyndell's  stay  had  already  passed. 

There  was  an  air  of  confusion  pervading  the  outer 
aspect  of  the  house.  Trunks  and  boxes  were  piled  on 
the  porch.  Servants  were  running  to  and  fro.  Before 
the  doctor  had  alighted  he  learned  the  Stanwoods  had 
arrived. 

Miss  Sherburne  entered  the  sitting-room  quite  flurried. 
Her  eyes  were  soft  with  emotion,  her  cheeks  pink,  her 
lips  still  carried  the  smile  of  welcome  that  had  been  too 
hearty  to  fade  away  in  an  instant. 

"Upon  my  word!"  cried  the  doctor  in  surprise. 
"  Have  you  been  adorning  yourself  with  the  bloom  of 
youth  for  an  old  fellow  like  me  ?  " 

"  What  nonsense  !  "  but  she  laughed  a  little.  "  Julia 
and  the  major  have  just  come,  and  the  house  is  running 
over  with  children,  and  everything  in  confusion.  Really, 
I  have  hardly  had  time  to  breathe  the  past  week." 

"  Well,  you  grow  young  and  good-looking  upon  it. 
You  were  too  much  alone  all  summer.  And  you  were 
too  strenuous  about  everything.  I  told  you  that  before. 
You  see  it  has  been  a  long  strain — and  bodies  wear,  as 


A   BED  LETTER  DAY.  341 

well  as  nerves.     It  must  seem  quite  like  old  times."  and 
the  doctor  smiled  cordially. 

"Yes."  Then  a  touch  of  hesitation  was  manifest. 
The  softness  of  her  face  seemed  fading  out. 

"  I  expected  to  come  over—"  she  paused  and  drew 
her  brows  slightly.  "  But  we  had  the  telegram  last 
evening  ;  Julia  was  anxious  to  come  right  through— the 
baby  was  teething  and  not  well.  I  have  been  so  busy 

Lyndell " 

"  You  will  do  better  without  her.  and  she  is  better  off 
where  she  is,"  with  a  certain  decision.  "  I  came  to  pro- 
pose an  extension  of  her  stay.  I'm  not  ready  to  pro- 
nounce her  cured — to  discharge  her." 

"  But  we  cannot  think  of  trespassing  upon  your  kind- 
ness. And  Miss  Carew  has  visitors " 

"  One  visitor.  The  house  is  by  no  means  circum- 
scribed," with  a  humorous  laugh.  "And  it  seems  to 
me  that  you  have  quite  enough  on  your  hands  without 
worrying  over  a  convalescing  girl.  She's  doing  very 
well.  She  wants  a  good  deal  of  outdoor  living.  Whit- 
tingham  has  a  friend's  pony,  gentle  as  a  lamb,  that  he 
means  to  send  over  for  her.  And  Mrs.  Kirby  has 
petitioned  for  some  visits.  Neale  gives  her  a  music 
practice  every  day.  And  I  want  her  under  my  eye  for 
some  time  to  come.  She'll  only  be  a  care  and  a  worry 
here,  plumped  down  among  these  young  folks.  And 
she'll  have  time  enough  for  study.  Ask  Mrs.  Beau- 
manoir  or  Mrs.  Lepage,  and  if  they  have  your  health 
and  peace  of  mind  at  heart  they  will  say  the  same  thing." 
Already  Miss  Sherburne  had  been  rather  overruled  in 
the  friendly,  suggestive  way  so  hard  to  oppose.  Even 
Millicent  had  added  her  mite  to  the  general  fund  of  pre- 
clusion. 

"What  will  you  do  with  her,  auntie."  she  had  said 
with  a  kind  of  pitiful  interest.  "  She  looks  like  a  ghost, 
and  she  isn't  well  enough  to  interest  herself  in  study  or 


342  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

amusement.  She  is  so  much  better  off  under  Miss 
Neale's  wing  ;  and  you  feel  more  at  liberty.  With  the 
whole  family  here  you  oughtn't  to  have  the  added  care. 
I  should  let  the  doctor  keep  her  if  he  would.  It's  next 
to  being  a  Sanitarium." 

"  You  forget  that  this  is  her  home." 

"Wait  until  I  get  nearer  settled,  Aunt  Aurelia,"  said 
Mrs.  Lepage.  "  We  shall  go  up  to  Washington  in 
December,  though  I  may  like  to  leave  the  girls  here  un- 
til we  get  the  house  in  order.  A  half-sick  child  is  a 
great  nuisance  at  the  best.  And  there  will  be  so  much 
on  hand.  Besides,  we  shall  all  feel  more  free  without 
her.  She  will  have  time  enough  to  rule  over  Sherburne 
House.  I  shouldn't  hurry." 

Miss  Sherburne  had  secretly  hoped  there  would  be 
some  objection  at  the  Carews,  since  she  had  been  plainly 
coerced  at  home.  Now  she  flushed  with  a  spasm  of 
vexation. 

"  If  you  think  I  am  unwilling  to  do  my  whole  duty, 
Doctor  Carew " 

"No  I  do  not  think  it,"  the  doctor  replied  with  a 
grave  deference.  "  You  have  done  it  cheerfully  for  years. 
But  you  must  care  a  little  for  yourself.  You  cannot  be 
as  prodigal  of  your  health  as  if  you  were  but  twenty. 
Take  this  pleasant  reunion  with  the  dear  ones  who  have 
been  like  children  to  you  and  let  nothing  interfere.  You 
will  never  regret  it.  And  Lyndell  will  do  well  enough." 

"  I  can't  decide  now."  She  made  a  deprecating  ges- 
ture with  her  hand. 

He  rose.  "  It  will  all  come  around  right,"  he  said 
cheerfully.  "I  will  announce  to  Dell  that  she  is  my 
prisoner  for  a  good  month  yet." 

A  few  days  later  Miss  Carew  came  over  to  pay  her 
respects  to  the  new  arrivals.  Miss  Sherburne  apologized 
rather  weakly. 

"She  can  hardly  be  considered  as  out  of  the  doctor's 


A   RED  LETTER  DAY.  343 

hands,"  replied  Miss  Neale.  ••  Her  nerves  are  not  very 
steady  as  yet,  and  the  freedom  from  excitement  is  best. 
When  she  begins  to  look  really  well  she  will  not  be  so 
sensitive." 

And  so  Dell's  battle  was  fought  without  a  word  from 
her.  She  was  more  than  delighted.  She  had  a  nervous 
shrinking  from  all  these  Sherburne  relatives  in  their 
exuberant  health  and  family  pride.  She  wanted  to  get 
well  acquainted  with  her  new  self,  to  test  the  strength  of 
her  new  aims  and  resolves.  She  shrank  from  the  bizzare 
notoriety  she  had  so  ignorantly  achieved.  A  finer  ideal 
•was  being  evolved  in  her  child's  brain,  a  truer  estimate 
in  her  soul. 

The  hours  with  the  doctor  were  far  from  being  unpro- 
ductive. He  found  her  not  only  intelligent,  but  ambi- 
tious. Densie  Murray  would  have  been  delighted  with 
this  turn  of  advancement.  He  saw  how  hard  it  had 
been  for  the  poor  child  to  be  suddenly  clipped  and  re- 
strained in  her  ardors  and  enthusiasms.  And  though  his 
instructions  had  none  of  the  formality  of  the  schools,  it 
enlarged  her  mental  vision  while  it  served  to  create  a 
thirst  for  general  knowledge. 

Lyndell  grew  stronger  physically,  joyous  and  eager; 
but  her  quick  sense,  a  sort  of  latent  development,  or  a 
disused  birthright,  led  her  to  watch  and  note  usages  dif- 
ferent from  those  into  which  circumstances  had  plunged 
her.  She  understood  there  might  be  diversities  without 
real  faults,  that  what  "was  proper  enough  in  one  sphere 
of  life  might  be  out  of  place  in  another,  that  refinement 
was  not  always  affectation,  and  that  truth  might 
sometimes  defeat  itself  by  rudeness,  or  even  brusquerie. 
The  gracious  harmony  of  Miss  Neale  affected  her  like  a 
strain  of  music. 

She  came  downstairs  one  morning,  after  having 
secluded  herself  for  half  an  hour,  with  a  note  in  her 
hand. 


344  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

"  Dear  Miss  Neale,"  she  began  with  tender  entreaty, 
"  will  you  read  this  and  tell  me  if  it  would  be  unwise  to 
send  it  to  my  Cousin  Millicent.  I  was  rude  and  un- 
grateful to  her  that  day  she  brought  me  the  gown.  And 
I  had  to  fight  with  myself  when  I  put  it  on.  I  didn't 
want  to  take  anything  like  a  gift  from  any  of  them. 
But  I  have  been  thinking — and  trying  a  little — oh,  my 
dear  Heart's  Delight,"  and  she  knelt  on  Miss  Neale's 
footstool,  laying  her  arms  across  the  elder's  lap,  "  I  can't 
bear  to  feel  that  I  am  in  the  wrong.  I  wanted  to  believe, 
as  I  did  at  first,  that  the  fault  was  all  theirs.  But  I  have 
seen  so  many  things  that  I  might  have  done  differently, 
and  that  I  have  wished  undone.  The  bitterness  and 
shame  is  that  you  can't  undo  all  of  them,"  and  her 
face  was  drowned  in  scarlet.  "  But  this  I  could  do. 
Miss  Millicent  never  was  unkind  to  me.  The  very  first 
proffer  I  repulsed." 

Miss  Neale  glanced  over  the  note  slipped  softly  into 
her  hand.  It  was  a  frankly  worded  apology,  if  it  lacked 
some  of  the  grace  of  society  training.  And  she  said— for 
which  Miss  Neale  in  her  heart  gave  her  infinite  credit — 
"  I  wore  it  the  next  day,  Sunday.  Everybody  thought  I 
had  improved  in  looks,  but  I  am  sure  it  was  the  added 
prettiness  of  your  taste  and  kindness.  I  should  like  to 
thank  you  in  person." 

Miss  Neale  bent  over  and  kissed  her.  "  I  am  very 
glad  you  wished  to  do  this,  I  think  it  simply  right.  You 
can  send  it  by  one  of  the  boys  if  you  prefer." 

"  I  think  I  would  rather  mail  it." 

"Very  well ;  it  shall  go  over  to  the  office." 

"  Do  you  suppose  Miss  Millicent  has  staid  away  be- 
cause— "  and  Dell  flushed  again. 

"They  have  all  been  very  much  engaged.  My  dear, 
do  not  say  Miss  Millicent.  Call  her  '  cousin  '  until  you 
feel  more  familiar." 

"And  do  you  suppose — I  will  have  to  say  '  aunt' — it 


A   BED  LETTER  DAY.  345 

seems  so— so  strange  to  think  of  them  as  real  relatives  ! 
But  I  always  said  -Aunt  Maggie'  to  Mamma  Murray's 
sister  ;  "  and  she  gave  a  sort  of  nervous,  embarrassed 
laugh. 

"  Did  you  never  say  '  aunt '  to  Mrs.  Beaumanoir?  " 

"  I  never  called  her  anything  when  I— had  to  speak 
directly  to  her.  I  always  said—'  your  mother '  to  the 
children,"  replied  Dell  hesitatingly. 

"  And  Miss  Sherburne  ?  " 

Dell  colored  violently.  "  I  had  a  feeling  that  she 
would  not  like  me  to  call  her 'aunt.'  And  I  did  not 
want  to,"  added  the  child  with  a  touch  of  the  old  de- 
fiance. 

Miss  Carew  gave  a  soft  little  sigh.  '  She  could  well 
understand  the  disappointment  of  her  lifelong  friend, 
but  this  persistent  bitterness  was  wholly  foreign  to  her 
nature. 

"  My  dear,"  she  said  gravely,  looking  into  the  flash- 
ing brown  eyes,  "you  will  find,  in  the  course  of  time, 
that  relationship  counts  for  a  good  deal  with  most  of  the 
old  county  families.  It  is  better  for  you  that  you  should 
pay  your  relatives  the  respect  due  them  until  you  learn 
to  love  them.  Millicent  has  always  been  a  great  favor- 
ite of  mine,  and  I  consider  her  an  especially  lovely  girl. 
We  shall  have  to  admit  that  there  have  been  many  un- 
fortunate incidents  in  your  homecoming,  and  some  of 
them  you  must  strive  to  overlive.  You  cannot  afford  to 
place  yourself  in  a  wrong  light  and  justify  disapproba- 
tion. And  I  think  as  you  grow  older  you  will  not  care 
to  do  it.  Miss  Sherburne's  disappointment,  all  the  way 
through,  has  been  very  hard  to  bear.  But  you  have  not 
been  to  blame  for  that." 

Dell's  heart  swelled  and  her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 
"  I  don't  believe,"  she  said  with  resolute  dignity,  "that 
my  own  mamma  was  to  blame  either.  And  she  loved 
papa  so  very,  very  dearly.  I  can  remember  that,  and 


346  SHERBUBNE  HOUSE. 

how  she  used  to  sit  and  cry  over  the  picture.  And  she 
was  very  beautiful.  Why,  there  was  a  portrait  of  her  !  " 
Dell  started  up  suddenly,  with  imperious  demand  written 
in  every  line  of  her  countenance. 

"  There  is  a  sealed  package  that  you  are  to  have  when 
you  are  fifteen.  It  is  in  Mr.  Whittingham's  hands. 
Then  you  may  know  more  of  the  story.  Can  you  not  be 
brave  and  patient  ?  It  will  not  be  very  long  to  wait  now. 
You  must  study  in  all  things  to  bring  no  discredit  on 
your  mother's  memory,  my  child.  I  think  it  would  be 
her  wish  that  you  should  make  friends  with  your  father's 
people." 

"But  when  they  don't  want  me!  "  Dozens  of  little 
recollections  stabbed  Lyndell,  and  the  hot  blood  rushed 
to  her  face. 

"There  is  one  who  does — Millicent.  And  through 
her,  supplemented  by  your  own  endeavor,  I  think  you 
can  win  others.  Promise  me  to  try." 

Dell  swallowed  over  a  big  lump  in  her  throat.  The 
soft,  entreating  eyes  disarmed  the  resolute  unwillingness. 
She  clasped  her  arms  about  Miss  Neale's  neck  and 
kissed  the  fond  lips. 

"  For  your  sake,"  she  said  with  a  falter  that  showed 
how  hard  the  concession  really  was.  She  stood  still  be- 
side her  a  full  minute,  drawing  quivering  breaths. 
"Oh,"  she  cried,  "my  dear  darling  Miss  Neale,  I've 
been  trying  to  get  so  nearly  right  in  my  heart  that  I 
could  say  the  Lord's  Prayer  honestly  and  truly.  I 
wouldn't  mind  forgiving  them  all,  and  keeping  them 
quite  outside,  but  it  isn't  the  way  /want  to  be  forgiven. 
I  shouldn't  like — Cousin  Millicent  to  do  so  to  me.  Oh, 
how  can  I  ?  '  As  we  forgive  those  who  trespass  against 
us.'  It  is  such  a  solemn  thing." 

"Yes,  my  dear.  And  we  try  our  whole  lives  long. 
But  God  sees  the  effort,  and  when  it  is  made  in  all  sin- 
cerity, even  if  we  fail  of  the  highest  mark,  he  remem- 


A   EED  LETTER  DAY.  347 

bers,  and  is  merciful.  No,  we  would  not  like  him  to 
mete  out  to  us  the  measure  we  give  to  one  another. 
Darius  is  going  in  town  ;  "  the  old  servitor  had  come  to 
the  window  to  signify  that  he  was  ready  to  start  on  his 
errand  for  Miss  Neale.  So  she  added  :  "  Give  him  your 
letter." 

Dell  slipped  it  into  the  envelope  and  sealed  it.  After 
standing  silently  by  the  window  awhile,  she  sat  down  to 
the  piano  and  began  to  go  over  an  exercise.  She  won- 
dered in  her  secret  heart  if  Miss  Neale  ever  had  to  try 
very  hard  for  anything  !  Were  not  some  people  natur- 
ally good  and  sweet — like  Mamma  Murray  ?  Ah,  she 
didn't  try  much  there.  It  was  when  trials  accumulated 
that  grace  and  strength  were  needed,  as  she  began 
vaguely  to  realize. 

The  Stanwoods  brought  a  fresh  and  stirring  atmosphere 
into  Sherburne  House.  They  had  been  out  on  the  fron- 
tier for  the  past  three  years.  Mrs.  Stanwood  was  much 
less  conventional  than  Mrs.  Lepage.  Neither  had  she 
experienced  the  extreme  chagrin  at  her  brother's  mar- 
riage that  had  so  stung  Mrs.  Beaumanoir.  Her  own,  at 
that  time,  was  too  new  and  too  full  of  interest.  The 
three  sisters  had  not  met  since  their  father's  funeral, 
though  Mrs.  Stanwood  had  been  kept  informed  of  the 
search  for  Edward's  child  and  its  results. 

In  the  interval  of  other  confidences,  she  listened  to  a 
somewhat  softened  account  of  recent  events.  Miss  Sher- 
burne had  unconsciously  modified  her  opinions  concern- 
ing the  Murrays,  though  she  was  still  secretly  mortified 
that  they  would  receive  no  compensation  for  their  care 
of  Lyndell. 

"  It's  quite  a  romance  all  the  way  through,"  declared 
Mrs.  Stanwood,  with  eager  interest.  "I  do  suppose  the 
child  outraged  your  sense  of  propriety,  Aunt  'Relic," 
and  she  laughed  with  a  dimpling  face.  "We  should 
rather  admire  that  sort  of  pluck  out  on  the  verge  of  cm- 


348  SHEBBURNE  HOUSE. 

lization.  I  can't  help  thinking  you  made  a  great  mistake 
in  so  abruptly  breaking  off  associations  with  the  Murrays. 
A  child  who  would  give  them  up  at  once,  would  be  a 
mean,  ungrateful  little  prig  !  I,  for  one,  would  be 
ashamed  of  her.  I  am  all  curiosity  to  see  her,  and  truly 
sorry  she  doesn't  inherit  the  Sherburne  good  looks. 
Deny  it  as  we  may,  comparative  prettiness  is  a  good 
thing  in  woman  when  you  can't  have  genuine  beauty." 

What  with  babies  and  unpacking  and  calls  of  friends, 
Mrs.  Stanwood  had  not  even  found  time  for  a  drive. 
She  had  an  idle  hour  Saturday  morning  as  Millicent 
came  winding  up  the  avenue  in  her  phaeton,  and  she 
ran  down. 

"  Don't  you  want  to  give  me  the  spare  seat,  Milly," 
she  cried.  "I'm  dying  for  a  bit  out  of  doors." 

"I  am  going  over  to  Ardmore,"  the  young  girl  said 
slowly.  She  had  received  Dell's  note  an  hour  ago,  and 
was  touched  by  its  frank  admission,  but  she  did  prefer 
going  alone.  "Aunt  Aurelia  wished  to  send  a  mes- 
sage  " 

"Ardmore!  The  very  place!"  cried  Aunt  Julia 
eagerly.  "  I  want  to  see  that  fearful  and  wonderful 
child.  I  must  confess  that  /admire  her.  She  ought  to 
have  one  friend  in  the  family." 

"  I  can  answer  for  one,"  and  Millicent  smiled  sig- 
nificantly. "  Yes,  I  shall  be  delighted  to  take  you." 

Aunt  Aurelia  came  with  her  errand.  Mrs.  Stanwood 
was  ready  in  a  trice,  and  they  drove  away. 

"I've  a  curious  sympathy  for  the  stranger  within  the 
Sherburne  gates,"  she  began.  "  I  can  imagine  her  con- 
sternation at  finding  herself  alone  in  that  great  house 
with  Aunt  'Relie,  when  she  had  been  one  of  a  houseful 
of  children,  running  wild  and  having  no  end  of  good 
times.  It  was  like  shutting  up  a  squirrel  in  a  cage. 
Aunt  'Relie  belongs  to  the  old  school,  very  nice  and 
decorous  and  all  that,  but  it  has  had  its  day.  I  can't 


A   RED  LETTER  DAY.  349 

understand  why  she  wanted  to  keep  her  so  rigorously 
under  her  own  eye.     Was  she  so  very  outre  f" 

"  I  only  saw  her  once  in  the  summer.  Len  had  been 
tormenting  her  and  she  flew  in  a  passion.  None  of  us 
considered  how  horribly  homesick  she  must  be,  since  we 
were  always  at  home  in  Sherburne  House.  Violet  thought 
her  coarse  looking,  but  she  is  thin  and  delicate  enough 
now.  Her  skin  is  almost  transparent,  and  her  eyes  are 
beautiful.  Her  hair  all  came  out — I'm  afraid  that  it  is 
going  to  be  red,"  confessed  Millicent  deprecatingly. 

"  Well,  red  hair  is  all  the  rage.  Blue  eyes,  of 
course." 

"  No.  The  loveliest  brown  you  can  imagine,  like  the 
pile  of  velvet,  and  raying  off  sparks  when  she  is  pro- 
voked. Oh,  Aunt  Julia,  it  seems  as  if  we  ought  to  make 
the  poor  little  thing  feel  at  home  among  us  when  we 
have  all  had  so  much  love." 

"My  dear  girl !  Of  course  we  must.  If  father  had 
not  clung  so  obstinately  to  that  crotchety  English  idea 
that  an  entail  must  go  only  in  the  male  line  !  There  are 
no  real  entails  in  this  country,  only  wills.  Of  course  we 
should  all  enjoy  Leonard  being  master  of  Sherburne 
House.  Well — who  knows?" 

She  uttered  a  significant  little  laugh.  Millicent  colored 
vividly. 

The  air  was  soft  and  delightful.  Ardmore  quite  gave 
one  a  shock  in  improvements,  Mrs.  Stanwood  declared. 
They  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  Carews.  As  they 
neared  the  gate  they  met  the  doctor.  Lyndell  leaned 
out  and  her  eyes  encountered  those  of  Millicent.  A  glad 
smile  lighted  up  her  face. 

The  doctor  sprang  down  and  greeted  his  guests. 
Millicent  came  around  to  Lyndell's  side,  and  caught  the 
child's  hand. 

"  I  had  your  note  this  morning,"  she  whispered,  her 
face  against  Dell's  cheek.  "  It  was  very  sweet  in  you  to 


350  SEERBUBNE  HOUSE. 

write  it — brave,  too ;  and  we  ought  to  be  the  best  of 
friends.  Can't  you  trust  me  to  learn  to  love  you  ?  Can't 
you  love  me  a  little,  and  in  time  all  will  go  right.  I  have 
brought  a  new  aunt,  who  is  sure  to  like  you,"  and  she 
kissed  Lyndell's  quivering  lips. 

The  doctor  came  and  lifted  her  out.  Miss  Neale  had 
bundled  her  up  like  a  mummy,  the  air  being  a  trifle 
sharp  when  they  started.  A  round,  rosy  face,  soft  as  a 
peach,  was  bent  down  to  hers  with  a  cordial  kiss,  and 
an  arm  encircled  her  with  a  touch  of  sympathy  as  they 
walked  up  the  path. 

"We  really  ought  not  to  stay,"  said  Millicent,  as  Miss 
Neale  was  hospitably  urging  them  to  lay  aside  their 
wraps. 

"  Nonsense  !  We  can  have  a  good  talk  over  the  din- 
ner. I'm  hungry  as  a  bear,"  declared  the  doctor,  "  and 
you  don't  want  to  see  me  unamiable,"  he  added  laugh- 
ingly. 

Dell  shyly  begged  Millicent  to  come  upstairs  with 
her. 

"Oh,"  she  cried,  turning  her  lustrous  eyes  up  to  the 
young  girl's  face,  "are  you  quite  sure  you  forgive  my 
rudeness — not  only  about  the  pretty  gift,  but  all  the  times 
we  have  met?  " 

"My  little  cousin,  I  am  afraid  you  have  a  much  larger 
score  to  forgive.  We  have  all  been  unfriendly.  We  have 
not  made  you  welcome  to  Sherburne  House,  your  papa's 
house  and  your  own.  But  if  you  will  let  us  begin 
anew  !  I  am  the  eldest  girl  and  ought  to  set  the  best  ex- 
ample. Will  you  let  me  be  your  friend  ?  And  if  you 
could  come  to  me  with  whatever  troubles  you — oh,  don't 
cry,  my  dear — for  I  know  we  can  find  some  way  to  be 
happy.  I  want  you  to  look  your  best  for  Aunt  Julia. 
May  I  brush  your  soft,  pretty  hair  ?  It  is  the  color  of  a 
newly  ripe  chestnut." 

"I'm  afraid  it  is  going  to  be  red."      Dell  laughed 


A   RED  LETTER  DAY.  351 

nervously  through  her  tears.  "Mamma's  was  such  a 
lovely  golden.  Mine  was  good  enough  until  it  began  to 
turn  and  grew  streaky.  May  I— would  you  like  me  to 
put  on  my  pink  gown?  Miss  Neale  said  the  brown 
velvet  just  matched  my  eyes." 

Millicent  comforted  her  and  helped  to  make  her  as 
pretty  as  possible. 

"  You  are  not  quite  so  thin,"  she  said  with  an  en- 
couraging smile.  ••  Your  cheeks  are  filling  out,  and  you 
have  a  cleft  chin.  Aunt  Julia  has  a  great  dimple  in  hers. 
And  your  ears  are  like  shells." 

Dell  colored  with  a  pleasurable  emotion.  She  went 
downstairs  with  a  curiously  light  heart,  feeling  somehow 
that  Millicent  understood  the  tumultuous,  unspoken 
thoughts.  The  humiliating  self-consciousness  was  gone, 
and  when  Aunt  Julia  looked  up  with  a  smile  and  made  a 
pretty  gesture  that  was  an  invitation  for  Dell  to  come 
and  sit  beside  her,  the  child  crossed  the  room  with  a  joy- 
ous step. 

She  was  relating  a  bit  of  Western  experience  to  the 
doctor,  but  she  placed  her  arm  caressingly  about  Dell, 
who  felt  drawn  to  her  at  once.  There  was  just  the  faint- 
est suggestion  of  Mamma  Murray.  All  the  world  seemed 
glad  and  bright,  and  the  child  took  a  long  flight  on  the 
wings  of  hope  to  a  sunny  clime  where  there  were  un- 
clouded skies.  Her  face  was  almost  transfigured. 

"  And  a  little  loving  appreciation  might  have  done  it 
before,"  Millicent  sighed  remorsefully.  Was  this  part  of 
the  daily  work  in  God's  world?  "to  make  their  faces 
shine  with  joy  and  gladness." 

Lyndell  was  really  at  her  best  estate.  She  felt  so  at 
home  with  Miss  Neale  and  the  doctor  ;  there  was  a  rush 
and  overflow  of  delight  tliat  the  tall,  sweet  girl  with  the 
Madonna  face  cared  enough  for  her  to  be  her  friend, 
and  that  this  gay,  bright,  smiling,  and  beguiling  Aunt 
Julia  had  found  something  in  her  to  approve.  She 


352  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

scarcely   uttered  a  word,  but  she  was  very  happy,  and 
perhaps  there  is  no  inspiration  like  it. 

They  talked  of  the  changes  the  war  had  made,  the 
seething  and  settling  down,  the  new  ideas,  laughed  over 
some  of  the  youthful  pranks  and  pleasures.  Evidently 
Mrs.  Stanwood  had  been  a  great  favorite  with  the  doc- 
tor and  Miss  Neale. 

Aunt  Julia  watched  Dell  furtively  out  of  one  eye,  an 
art  gained  by  shrewd  experience.  Her  manners  had  a 
natural  grace — training  would  have  betrayed  its  newness. 
Her  voice  was  soft :  there  was  no  aggressiveness  of  de- 
meanor. She  was  not  unlike  hundreds  of  tolerably 
well-bred  children.  Had  Aunt  Aurelia  been  looking 
at  her  all  this  time  through  a  distorted  vision  ;  had 
her  injustice  brought  about  the  very  qualities  she  had 
predicated  ? 

They  had  to  go  presently,  though  Mrs.  Stanwood  de- 
clared she  was  longing  to  come  and  spend  the  day,  if 
Miss  Neale  wouldn't  mind  two  babies  and  a  nurse. 

"  And  I  do  hope  you  mean  to  allow  Dell  to  come  over 
to  us  for  a  visit,  if  you  can't  discharge  her  as  cured?" 
she  said  gayly  to  the  doctor. 

"  When  she's  a  little  steadier,  a  little  stouter,  and  able 
to  give  me  some  credit,  we  may  take  you  in  on  our 
rounds  some  day." 

"  For  it  almost  looks  as  if  we  had  come  in  and  taken 
possession  and  pushed  the  poor  little  princess  out."  She 
put  her  arm  familiarly  over  Dell's  shoulder.  "It's  a 
long  while  since  we  have  all  been  together.  And  you 
belong  to  the  clan  Sherburne,  my  dear,  and  are  one  of 
us.  We  will  make  good  our  claim  to  you,  never  fear.  I 
can't  tempt  you  with  very  fascinating  companionship, 
for  I  have  only  a  big  boy  at  school  and  two  babies — ' 
she  paused  a  little,  and  a  mysterious  tenderness  suffused 
her  face,  thinking  of  the  little  girl  who  "  was  not,"  who 
would  have  been  about  Dell's  age.  "  But  I'm  a  host  in 


A   BED  LETTER  DAY.  353 

myself,  and  I  know  you  cannot  help  liking  your  uncle, 
the  major,  who  will  be  down  presently." 

Dell  gave  the  plump  arm  a  squeeze  and  was  fright- 
ened. But  it  only  elicited  a  long,  fond  kiss. 

•|  I'm  coming  over  some  day  for  a  visit,"  Millicent 
whispered  in  her  ear. 

Then  the  doctor  put  them  in  the  phaeton.  He  had  to 
take  a  long  journey,  and  perhaps  would  not  be  home 
until  late.  He  came  and  pinched  Dell's  ear  and  looked 
into  her  shining  eyes,  then  kissed  her  without  a  word 
and  was  off,  at  the  call  of  the  dying,  where  he  could 
only  administer  tender  human  consolation,  and  smooth 
the  path  for  a  weary  soul. 

Dell  meant  to  have  a  nice  long  talk  with  Miss  Neale, 
but  she  had  only  said:  "Oh,  isn't  she  delightful!" 
when  Miss  Neale  had  to  go  out  to  the  doctor's  office. 
Another  call  afterward,  "  Maum  Juno's  little  gran'darter 
had  done  gone  tumbled  in  a  tub  of  bilen  water  an'  was 
nigh  onto  scalt  to  def." 

"You  won't  mind  staying  alone?"  Miss  Neale  said 
with   that  inexpressible  sound  in  her  voice  that,  like  a 
perfume,  lingered  after  she  had  spoken. 
"  Oh  no,"  Dell  replied. 

Miss  Neale  picked  up  rolls  of  old  linen,  washes,  and 
salves,  and  started  on  her  errand  of  mercy. 

Dell  took  her  favorite  seat  by  the  window.  No,  she 
did  not  mind  being  alone  with  such  lovely  subjects  to 
think  about.  "Aunt  Jue."  Would  she  ever  dare  call 
her  that  ?  Cousin  Millicent !  Suddenly  the  whole  State 
of  Virginia  was  bounded  by  rivers  of  hope  and  smiling 
hills  of  tender  effort,  a  great  beautiful  bay  and  inlets  full 
of  delight  and  joy  and  sunshine.  And  the  capital 
seemed  to  be  Sherburne  House.  All  the  people  far  and 
near  could  come — there  was  room  for  a  multitude.  She 
did  not  want  to  shut  any  one  out  now.  If  there  was 
some  pretty  corner  for  her  and  Miss  Millicent,  no,  Cousin 


354  SHEBBUBNE  HOUSE. 

Millicent,  and  Aunt  Jue,  with  her  face  full  of  smiles  and 
dimples. 

She  must  have  fallen  asleep,  for  when  she  opened  her 
eyes  Miss  Neale  was  smiling,  and  Mr.  Whittingham 
stood  at  the  gate,  his  own  handsome  horse  proudly  arch- 
ing his  neck,  and  another,-  not  so  large,  but  sleek  and 
shining,  and  with  great  eyes  that  almost  laughed.  A 
negro  lad  had  hold  of  the  bridle. 

•'  I  think  the  call  is  especially  for  you,"  said  Miss  Neale. 

Dell  sprang  up.  "  Oh,"  she  cried  in  a  tremor,  "was 
he  in  real,  solemn  earnest?  And  is  that  the  pony  ?  How 
beautiful!  " 

Mr.  Whittingham  entered  and  shook  hands  with  them 
both. 

"Why,  you  look  like  a  new  girl,"  he  said  in  a  quaint 
sort  of  surprise.  "  Has  the  doctor  compounded  some 
wonderful  tonic  ?  I'm  sorry  he  is  away.  But  the  pony 
has  come  to  stay  a  week,  and  then,  if  you  agree,  he  may 
go  on  and  on " 

"  But  I  don't  know  how  to  ride."  Dell  raised  her 
eyes  in  a  kind  of  laughing  dismay.  "  I  went  to  a  circus 
once  and  had  a  ride  on  an  elephant.  It  took  such  mon- 
strous steps  that  you  felt  as  if  you  were  going  down  in 
the  depths  of  the  ocean.  And  the  donkeys  at  Central 
Park " 

"  If  Miss  Neale  didn't  mind  I  might  give  you  a  les- 
son." The  soft,  pink  cheeks,  the  lustrous  eyes  and  the 
restless,  curving  lips  made  her  strangely  pretty,  Mr. 
Whittingham  thought.  Her  unexpected  pleasure  gave 
him  a  quiet  joy.  He  had  thought  a  great  deal  about 
her  in  the  last  fortnight.  He  was  her  guardian,  and  it 
•was  in  his  power  to  make  her  poor  little  life  brighter,  to 
give  her  the  privileges  and  the  rights  befitting  the  heiress 
of  Sherburne  House. 

Miss  Neale  smiled  and  looked  from  one  to  the  other. 

"  You  won't  be  afraid  ?  " 


A   RED  LETTER  DAY.  355 

"Why,  no,"  Dell  answered  with  a  very  little  touch 
of  hesitation.  Three  months  ago  she  would  have  gone 
wild  over  such  a  prospect. 

"Well,  if  Miss  Neale  will  get  you  ready.  The  wind 
has  fallen,  and  it  is  very  pleasant  out  here  in  the  sunny 
avenue." 

Miss  Neale  found  one  of  her  own  skirts  and  a  jacket 
she  had  been  making  for  one  of  her  poor.  It  fitted  Dell 
very  nicely.  She  put  on  the  pretty  scarlet  cap  she  found 
so  comfortable  in  the  carriage. 

"Take  a  lump  of  sugar  out  to  her.  I  find  a  great 
many  friendships  have  their  corner  stone  laid  in  sweet- 
ness. Here,  Bonny." 

Bonny  rubbed  her  nose  in  Mr.  Whittingham's  hand. 
Dell  held  up  the  lump  of  sugar  ;  but  hesitated  the  least 
bit.  Bonny  looked  so  wistful,  so  entreating.  Dell 
stroked  her  nose,  her  mane,  and  in  an  instant  she  loved 
her. 

Mr.  Whittingham  mounted  her  and  settled  her  foot  in 
the  stirrup.  Handing  her  the  rein  he  led  the  pony,  who 
went  gently  along  as  if  careful  of  her  precious  load. 
Dell's  nervousness  subsided  in  a  few  moments.  An  ex- 
hilaration came  to  her,  a  dash  of  her  old  courage  and 
vigor.  She  felt  as  if  she  had  wings  ;  she  smiled  back  at 
Miss  Neale  :  a  bright,  happy  girl.  It  seemed  to  her  that 
she  had  never  been  quite  so  happy  since  that  fateful 
Saturday  in  Murray's  Row. 

Bonny  paced  very  gently  up  and  down.  Then  Mr. 
Whittingham  let  her  go  alone. 

"You  will  do  pretty  well,  I  think.  We  must  not  tire 
you  out  with  the  first  lesson.  Hasn't  it  been  long  enough, 
Miss  Neale  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  answered. 

The  grave,  kindly  man  lifted  her  down,  repaid  by  her 
sunny  smile.  What  was  there  about  her— or  was  it  his 
sympathy  that  had  been  so  thoroughly  awakened. 


356  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

Darius  took  Bonny  to  her  new  quarters.  Mr.  Whit- 
tingham  entered  the  house  with  Dell's  soft  hand  slipped 
in  his. 

"You   are   so  good   to   me,"    she    said   tremulously. 
"  And  I  have  made  you  so  much  trouble  from  the  very 
beginning.     I  am  so  sorry.     And  I  am  going  to  try — in 
solemn  earnest — to  do  what  is  right,  to  be — obedient  — 
and  she  swallowed  over  a  great  lump. 

"  My  little  girl" — one  would  hardly  think  Mr.  Whit- 
tingham's  voice  could  be  so  tender — "  My  little  girl, 
matters  have  been  made  much  harder  for  you  than  was 
at  all  necessary.  And  I  mean  that  they  shall  be  better. 
I  want  you  to  feel  that  I  have  your  interests  and  your 
pleasures  at  heart,  and  never  hesitate  to  apply  to  me  for 
anything  you  want." 

"Oh,"  she  cried  remorsefully,  "I  asked  you  for  that 
money,  and  then  I  — "  her  voice  broke. 

"  My  dear,  let  bygones  be  bygones.  I  ought  to  have 
taken  you  to  New  York  myself.  It  was  cruelly  unjust  to 
ask  you  to  forget  friends  who  had  been  so  good  to  you. 
I  see  a  great  many  things  that  must  have  been  bitter  for 
you  to  endure.  When  you  go  back  to  Sherburne  House 
there  will  be  a  great  difference.  And — I  have  some 
wonderful  news  about  the  Murrays.  You  may  show  it  to 
the  doctor — to  any  one." 

He  fumbled  in  his  pocket  and  drew  forth  a  newspaper. 
There  was  a  curious  triumph  in  his  eyes,  in  his  very  tone, 
as  he  said,  pointing  out  a  paragraph  : 

"  Perhaps  you  may  not  quite  understand  it.  Murray's 
Row  has  been  sold  for  a  very  large  sum,  and  some 
splendid  houses  are  to  be  erected  on  the  site.  It  has 
made  Mr.  Murray  a  rich  man,  independent  of  his  busi- 
ness. And  I  am  sure  he  is  worthy  of  the  best  of  good 
fortune.  I  honor  and  esteem  him,  and  you  must  never 
forget  their  goodness.  He  would  not  take  a  penny  for 
his  four  years'  care  of  you." 


A   RED  LETTER  DAY.  357 

"As  if  I  could  ever  stop  loving  them!  "  Dell  wiped 
away  the  fast-flowing  tears.  "  I  shall  wait  until  I  am 
grown — for  now  I  have  resolved  that  I  won't  trouble 
Miss  Sherburne,  nor  do  anything  mean  or  underhand. 
I  promised  papa  Murray,"  and  her  voice  had  a  little 
ring  of  pride.  "  And— Mr.  Whittingham— did  you  give 
Tessy  that  money  I  asked  you  to?"  she  inquired  eagerly. 

"  I  couldn't,  my  dear  child.  You  were  under  age,  and 
I  could  not  legally  bestow  such  a  gift.  Then,  too,  Mr. 
Murray  would  not  take  it.  You  must  make  all  the 
returns  in  the  years  to  come,  and  I  sincerely  hope  you 
will.  It  is  a  sacred  duty  :  a  point  of  honor.  Respect 
Miss  Sherburne' s  feelings  on  the  subject.  Some  time  she 
may  come  to  view  it  in  a  more  correct  light.  And  now — 
if  you  want  anything,  you  will  not  hesitate  to  ask  me? 
If  it  is  wrong,  I  shall  tell  you  so  frankly." 

He  held  both  hands  and  looked  steadily  into  her 
eyes.  Then  he  bent  down  and  kissed  her  gravely  on 
the  forehead. 

He  resisted  Miss  Neale's  persuasions  to  remain  to  sup- 
per, but  promised  to  come  over  some  evening  soon. 

The  two  had  a  quiet  supper  together.  Then  they 
returned  to  the  home-room  and  Miss  Neale  drew  her 
chair  up  to  the  cheerful  blaze,  for  the  evening  was  some- 
what chilly.  DeH  sat  on  an  ottoman  and  laid  her  head 
on  Miss  Carew's  knee,  tenderly  caressing  the  soft  hands. 
They  talked  about  Mr.  Murray's  good  fortune,  which  the 
elder  understood  in  its  wider  significance.  And  Dell  told 
the  story  of  her  life  with  them,  which  was  like  a  pastoral 
in  its  simplicity.  But  Miss  Neale  laughed  softly  over  that 
fateful  afternoon,  and  realized  the  shock. 

"I  suppose  I  did  look  like  a  guy,"  said  Dell  ruefully. 
••  We  never  played  in  our  best  clothes.  I  shouldn't  want 
to  dance  for  the  children  in  Murray's  Row,  now  ;  but  oh, 
it  was  delightful  then,  until  she  looked  out  of  the  carriage 
at  me."  Even  now  Dell  shuddered.  "  Oh,  Miss  Neale, 


358  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

dear  Heart's  Delight — do  you  think  I  shall  ever  come  to 
love  Miss  Sherburne  ?  " 

"  You  can  try  to  obey  her  and  pay  her  the  respect  due 
her  position,"  returned  the  persuasive  voice. 

"  But  the  doctor  said — the  unkind  and  the  unthankful. 
And  there  is  the  prayer  !  I  must  be  very  wicked — I  be- 
lieve I  do  not  really  care  about  her  loving  me.  The  others 
may  have  her " 

"  You  will  come  to  see  matters  in  their  true  light  when 
you  are  older.  A  child's  soul  cannot  take  in  everything. 
Experience  will  be  one  of  your  best  teachers,  and  love 
grows.  When  the  soul  is  full  of  it,  the  unkind  and  the 
unthankful  may  have  a  little  share  ;  it  overflows,  and  yet 
there  is  always  plenty.  Remember  this,  that  love  begets 
love,  just  as  dislike  begets  dislike." 

Then  they  talked  of  Millicent  and  Mrs.  Stanwood. 
Dell  had  shown  an  unusual  delicacy  for  a  child  who  felt 
her  wrongs  so  keenly,  in  not  expatiating  on  the  domestic 
affairs  at  Sherburne  House.  It  was  very  rarely  that  she 
inveighed  with  bitterness  against  its  mistress,  and  Miss 
Neale  felt  like  blaming  her  friend  for  not  endeavoring  to 
win  the  child's  regard  when  a  little  kindness  would  have 
done  it. 

The  clock  struck  ten. 

"  My  dear  child,"  she  cried  in  alarm,  "  the  doctor  will 
think  me  crazy  for  allowing  you  to  stay  up  so  late.  You 
must  go  to  bed  this  moment." 

"  I  hoped  he  would  come."  There  was  a  touch  of  dis- 
appointment in  Dell's  tone. 

"  I  will  not  tell  him  a  word  of  your  joyful  news.  You 
shall  have  that  pleasure." 

Dell  rose  and  stood  there  thoughtfully,  her  eyes  caught 
by  the  waning  firelight.  The  soft  glow  shadowed  and 
shaded,  brought  out  her  best  points,  prefigured  the 
change  and  advancement  both  of  the  child's  soul  and 
body.  The  lustrous  eyes  looked  steadily,  bravely  into  the 


A   EED  LETTER  DAY.  359 

future  with  a  clear  and  solemn  shining,  the  broad  brow, 
and  conformation  of  the  temples  indicated  strength  and 
earnestness  and  a  certain  nobility,  if  not  too  deeply 
crushed  and  weighted  with  trivial  bonds. 

The  mouth  was  wide,  but  something  in  the  tremulous, 
anticipating  joy  of  to-night  gave  it  a  sweetness,  and  cer- 
tain tender  curves.  Would  she  learn  how  to  use  them 
so  that  they  might  express  her  truth  and  tenderness, 
rather  than  a  proud,  obstinate  indifference?  Would  she 
learn  to  be  lovely  in  feature  and  expression  from  some  in- 
ward light  of  the  soul,  to  reach  that  highest  standard, 
which,  in  this  swift  gleam  seemed  possible !  "  I  am  so 
happy,"  she  said  in  her  straightforward,  child-fashion, 
"  that  I  feel  as  if  I  could  be  good." 

She  lay  in  her  little  bed,  whether  awake  or  asleep  she 
could  never  clearly  tell,  and  lived  over  plans  for  the  fu- 
ture, saw  herself  as  in  a  vision.  She  would  be  the 
gracious  and  kindly  mistress  of  Sherburne  House,  in  the 
long  years  to  come.  She  would  make  it  a  beautiful 
place,  where  every  one  would  be  sure  of  a  welcome, 
where  little  children  would  be  eager  to  come  and  frolic 
in  the  wide  paths  and  soft,  fragrant  grass.  The  cousins — 
somehow  by  that  time  she  would  have  won  their  love — 
and  those  who  were  lonely,  in  any  want  or  distress,  or  ill 
and  suffering,  as  Mamma  Murray  and  Miss  Neale  had 
done  to  her,  so  she  must  do  to  others,  make  them  happy  ; 
it  was  such  a  glorious  thing  to  be  happy.  And  some- 
how, because  Miss  Neale  was  single,  so  lovely  and  be- 
loved, and,  because  she  and  Con  had  said  such  dreadful 
things  about  Miss  Sherburne  being  an  "  old  maid,"  she 
would  take  them  back  by  her  living  out  of  them  all :  by 
being  Miss  Sherburne.  She  could  see  herself— not  as 
pretty  as  Miss  Neale,  but  softer  and  kindlier  than  Aunt 
Aurelia,  and— growing  really  old— with  white  hair  and 
many  years. 

The  midnight  moon  came  up  and  looked  into  the  cham- 


360  SHERBURNE  HOUSE. 

ber,  the  stars  went  on  their  endless  journeying,  the  great 
pine  woods  whispered  together,  the  streams  went  purling 
onward  to  the  sea.  There  was  soft  music  and  fine,  in- 
tangible, dewy  odors  ;  long  grand  silences  that  would 
awake  presently  in  the  murmuring  voices  of  dawn  and 
day,  just  as  the  soul  of  the  child  would  begin  a  new  life, 
not  dreams,  but  an  illumination  and  comprehension  of 
things  past  and  things  to  come,  of  fragmentary  fruths  to 
be  builded  up  in  the  temple  of  the  soul. 

For  going  over  human  fields  one  reaps  what  one  has 
sown.  Happy  that  one  who  can  lay  at  the  Master's  feet 
an  armful  of  ripened  sheaves. 


THE   END. 


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